


Of Seas and Sunflowers

by sheriffswan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adventures, Alternate Universe, Character Death, F/M, Pirate universe, Princess Emma Swan, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:30:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 63,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3271778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheriffswan/pseuds/sheriffswan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost two decades ago, Snow white has tragically disappeared with her enemy the Evil Queen leaving behind her husband and newborn. Princess Emma is the heir of a dead kingdom; her mother is no more than a ghost, her father King David is his wife's shadow only. Covered by the snow, the kingdom of Winterfield is an eternal winter. Their only hope is a book: the book of the Seven Seas, a magic item said to be the key to the curse that has fallen upon them.The book finally home, it gets stolen by no other than the fearsome swashbuckling Captain Hook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cold Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to start posting OSAS here for those who prefer it! I hope you enjoy the journey just as much as I wish you to, this is a slow burn but one that I hope will bring you quite the fun.  
> Enjoy!

She walked fast and without paying attention to the castle around her.

Heels clapping against the cold ground, the sound echoing against the walls, Emma's hair flew around her shoulders as a cold wind passed through the corridor, the guards barely moving when Emma passed by them, acknowledging her presence with an almost imperceptible nod. Emma ignored them and lengthened her steps, her heavy coat flowing around her as she held the lapels to keep it closed to stay warm.

Winters weren't the easiest since they had been forced by the Evil Queen's army to go back to their summer castle; Emma's family had been trapped in a golden tower with nowhere to go. This part of the kingdom was safe for the moment, as if the Evil Queen had given them a reprieve and let them live.

She had found another curse to spell them with, more destructive, more evil, and everything you would've expected from the so called Evil Queen.

Emma shook her head, stopping her musings and trying to ignore the hammering of her heart as she approached the council chamber; she was excited and impatient to see what had brought faith and joy into the hearts of her people after years and years of mourning the golden era.

Some messenger had run into her room without knocking, which, under other circumstances would have annoyed her, bringing with him the good news. It was then that Emma had heard cries and screams of joy from her bedroom's window, as people Emma had known all her life wearing broken smiles and tensed features smiled with faith in better days.

It had been terrible for all of them.

The flowers had died much like the hot summer and spring, everything condemned to an endless winter with no hope of seeing the fields healthy. Everything in the land had disappeared when the curse had come, and the farmers had left the land, seeking a better place to raise their children and see their seeds growing into a fertile ground. The lakes and the rivers were dead, dried and useless, taking with them last drops of water, and all hope to see their land flourish again.

Emma passed through the heavy door of the council room where she was expected; one step in and her breath was stuck at the back of her throat, emotions and surprise drying her lips.

The bright light lightening the place made her stop for a moment, symbols, pictures and stories projected on the wall, the book of the seven seas opened in the middle of the table.

"Emma!" Her father interrupted his conversation to walk to her, a smile on his tired features appearing, gently; Prince Charming took her hand in his, that used to be, once upon a time, so comforting and so warm, and lead her to the center of the room, where there was a heavy wooden table.

"Isn't it beautiful, honey? After years of fighting, of trying to find the holy book, it's here. The war is over."

Not wanting to get him down, Emma didn't correct him though the war was far from being over; the Evil Queen still had more than half of the land for herself.

It was just a tiny spark of hope.

Examining the heavy and impressive book on the table, the cover old and worn by the years because God knew how old that magical book was, Emma let go of her father's hand to walk closer, curious about it; she had heard many tales and legends about it, read many books to try to figure out the mystery of the Seven Seas, where all the stories of the ancient times and what could still be were written in, where her father supposed the key of winning the war was.

_Oh, how she wanted to believe in this pretty tale._

Emma had learned it the hard way; there was no such thing as a fairytale.

The fairies were gone, abandoning them after the war.

And with them, many hearts had left.

The thought almost made Emma laugh humorlessly.

Light blue and white lines were painted over the precious cover, the pages turned yellowish after years of the book being lost in some unknown place before Graham and her father figured out its location.

Maybe they would finally get their happy ending after all.

The precious book was regally opened on the table, lighting them with new hope and coloring their faces with a light blue color.

Brushing her fingertips over the edge of the book, Emma couldn't help but feel hope spreading through her veins, hope she quickly kicked out from her mind as she tried to calm herself.

"We did it", Emma said nevertheless, almost caressing the magical book, goosebumps appearing on her skin.

Hope was dangerous in their situation; they needed to remain careful because giving hope to their people was one thing and getting carried away was another. They had lost too much to lose themselves too, again.

"I did it", a voice came from behind Emma when Graham, also called the Hunstman for his habits of spending time in the woods as much as he could so that some even called him the wolf, spoke softly. He hadn't quite changed since the last time she had seen him; his hair was longer, messier due to the life on the sea, she guessed, though she didn't have any reference or idea what it meant. Graham also looked thinner, tired and the smile on his face said just one thing: he was happy to be home.

"I missed you, sweetcheeks", he said and in a friendly gesture, Graham tugged on her tresses, knowing she would hate it.

He was sort of her best friend.

"Don't call me that", Emma cocked her head to the side, arching a brow at the pet name before reaching for him and poking him in the arm; it was good to have him back, a friend was more than needed in these dark times. "I'm glad you're home."

Squeezing his arm once more, Emma offered him a genuine smile, a hand resting on her sword; she was never a touchy person, but it didn't mean she didn't care.

She just wasn't used to that kind of gestures, and because Emma didn't know how to do it doing nothing was easier.

Not feeling anything and not showing it was a lot easier when you lived in this messed up world.

"I don't know how to thank you for bringing hope to the kingdom, Hunstman", David said from behind Emma, a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Thanks to you, we may have a chance to see this disaster end this year."

"I did my duty as a knight, your majesty", Graham bent down reverently, the king stopping him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't. If anyone has to, it's us", Charming argued, patting the Hunstman's shoulder.

The moment turned awkward, something heavy hanging between them all as if a ghost had just appeared, and her father shrugged.

"Tonight we will celebrate this day as we should!" Charming exclaimed so that everybody in the room could hear him. "A new Era is coming, the end of the dark days; we found the book of the Seven Seas, the book of what was and what will be. We will find peace", he said and looked at Emma, sealing a promise, "we will find each other."

This must be the way the big moments happened, the legendary moments of the Golden Snowing era that the people were talking at midnight around the fire, when Snow White and Prince Charming were leading the kingdom together, bringing back hope and happiness to lonely houses, making their people believe in happy ending and ever after.

God she wanted to believe him, especially when for the first time in years, her father's smile met his eyes.

But then, something in her own eyes must had done something to him, because his expression went back to something sadder, a ghost passing over his expression and darkening his eyes.

Charming had left.

Not the room but somewhere in his mind.

"Traveled fine?" She tried to break the tension, smiling at Graham.

Graham nodded, his lips forming a thin line, something about him and his whole expression was saying a lot more than just his "uh-huh".

"Did you face any dragons?" She asked with curiosity and her dad gave her a hesitant smile before leaving them alone. Again, David, also called Prince Charming a long time ago, knew better than stay and have to face her disappointment; she had begged him to let her go with Graham, praying for a miracle, but her father had refused to let her go.

Princesses didn't have a place on the field and besides, he wouldn't risk her life.

"Do I even look like a freaking princess to you?" Emma had wanted to yell at him, not supporting his overprotectiveness anymore; she wasn't a four year old girl who needed her daddy to look after her.

"You can't go; there's too many dangers upon the seas like pirates, scoundrels, and who knows what kind of creatures dwelling there."

Raging, Emma had left without saying anything, sighing heavily and slamming the door behind her.

God knew she didn't fear pirates, monsters… or even scoundrels.

"You better tell me everything", she pointed a finger at Graham, eyes shining with anticipation, a wry smile curling on her best friend's lips.

"Only if we have something to drink first", the knight said before grabbing her by the arm and guiding her out of the room and down the hall.

She hated to say it, but jealousy was crawling through her veins and system, Graham's tales still buzzing in her ears; he had seen so many things, sailed so many seas, crossed swords with so many pirates, though he said that he was stronger than them all with a cocky smirk on his lips. They hadn't even bothered to go for a drink; Emma had asked her old friend to take her for a walk because it was the only chance she had to see the kingdom outside her room.

Because of her father's protectiveness Emma wasn't allowed to go farther than the little garden of their castle, and arguing with him hadn't led her anywhere; despite being really skilled with a sword, Emma still wasn't allowed to go anywhere without someone at her side.

The irony was that this person was most of the time Joanna, who was incapable of wielding a sword.

Even though the once called Prince Charming's behavior upset her, Emma didn't hold it against him since the moments of peace they could share were rare enough without them fighting over something as stupid, though longed for, as walking around the kingdom.

Her father would sleep in peace. As much as he could.

Emma didn't bother knocking on the door, knowing in advance that she wouldn't get any response.

The room was quiet, and it was hard to tell someone was living in here despite the fresh flowers Joanna had brought; a stranger would have still thought that this room was unoccupied. Or that a guest was using it for a short time.

She was hardly able to breathe in this room, the heat unbearable, and Emma felt like she was drowning; the window was closed, no light escaping between the heavy curtains. Making her way to it, Emma opened it almost brutally, letting the fresh air fill her lungs, hoping to smell traces of saltiness coming from the sea.

"Close it", a cold voice came from afar and Emma looked about her, trying to find the form that spoke.

Ignoring her request, Emma stepped deeper into the room to find the woman she would have once called a mother.

Snow White, the once upon a time fairest of them all, was standing in the shadow.

"Who are you?" She asked, her tone as sharp as usual, sharper than the most dangerous blade.

"It's me", Emma said in a casual tone, like you do when you're repeating the same conversation over and over again, saying same words, using the same tone, being in the same place, and feeling the same emotions.

"Who, you?"

"Emma, your daughter."

"I have no daughter", Snow White replied, stepping into the light, her face paler than ever, her cheekbones too prominent. "Who are you?"

Emma sighted.

"No one. I just came to tell you that Graham brought us good news today."

"Who?"

"A knight", the princess lowered her head, not with shame but with tiredness; these visits were something she tried to avoid as much as possible, and Emma was only doing it today because she knew her father couldn't handle seeing the woman he loved in this state.

If only this woman who was looking at Emma with such disdain was really the woman Prince David had fallen in love with.

If Emma had never smelt the salty perfume of the sea or seen the sunflowers from the books her nanny had showed her, she also had never had a real mother.

Not since Snow White had lost her heart.

"Who are you?" Snow asked once again, her brows coming together as she studied Emma who sat on the desk in front of the bed.

"No one important to you", Emma breathed out. "I'm just here to tell you that we may have a chance to save you."

"I don't need to be saved."

"Yeah, right."

"Don't talk to me like this", Snow White lectured, almost sounding like the mother she should have been. "I don't know you, you don't know me."

Emma didn't say anything in response, trying to find in the stranger's expression something that could become a memory, something that Emma could hold onto as the last remnant of her mother.

Especially when she knew her mother had died a hero.

"Dad found a way."

"Who?"

"David, the Prince", Emma explained. "Your husband, you used to call him Char-"

"I'm not married", Snow turned her head, ignoring Emma's broken expression, almost rolling her eyes at her. "I don't know your dad."

It shouldn't hurt this much because Emma was twenty-six after all and not having a mother shouldn't hurt her like it did when she was four.

Through her childhood, Emma had learned how to be without her mother at her side, her father giving her everything she had ever wanted, loving her with the love of two parents, even if his own heart was broken to pieces. Sometimes the Prince would take her to this big, white room where a beautiful woman would look at her without seeing her, her skin white as snow and her lips red as roses.

But she had never known the sweetness or the tenderness of her mother's arms, nor had she known the love of Snow White's kisses.

Even after all these years, her absence still hurt.

Nevertheless, Emma walked to the big chair where Snow was sitting now, kneeling in front of her and taking her mother's hands in hers.

"Snow", Emma refused to call her mom.

"You're not even a princess."

"I am one", Emma stood up, lifting her chin high, walls back on.

"You're not dressed like one."

"The clothes don't make a person, and you, better than anyone else, should know that", Emma hadn't meant her tone to be so sharp, but this woman had married a shepherd, she had lived as a bandit for so long, and just because Emma didn't like wearing dresses didn't mean she would allow the ghost of her mother to talk to her like that. Heartless or not.

Emma hadn't grown up without a mother at her side to teach her how to be a woman, and she had figured it out herself, with only her nanny for help.

"Get out."

"With pleasure", Emma bit between her teeth, holding at bay the tears she used to shed a long time ago for a dead mother.

There was no more tears to shed for the ghost, what ifs, and what could have beens; she had grieved a long time ago, although she didn't know why when she had never in the first place known her mother.

"Do you really have to tighten it so much, Joanna, I can barely breathe", Emma gasped, a hand on her stomach, trying to inhale which was impossible in that corset.

"You know your father is going to be delighted to see you in that dress, M'lady", Joanna kept working on the laces of her dress, but loosened them a bit for which Emma was grateful.

"My dad would also prefer me alive and breathing than dry, dead and useless."

"But look at you princess, you are beautiful", Joanna pushed her in front of the mirror. "You are the most fairest of them all, M'lady. His lord Graham is not going to believe his eyes."

Emma's cheeks reddened as she studied her reflection; her hair was curled around her face in soft waves that looked natural and yet sophisticated, and her nanny had chosen a red dress made of light materials, the corset making her thin waist look even more graceful. To her surprise the dress wasn't as heavy as the last one she wore, one which her father had chosen for a ball they had given in the winter; aside from the laces wrapped around her it was a pretty dress, but still, Emma preferred her leathers pants, and she missed the sword dearly.

God she hated dresses.

"You almost look like a bride", Joanna commented, her voice full of emotion. "If you forget about the red..."

Emma turned around and placed a finger on her maid's lips.

"No, please, don't say it", she told her. "I don't want to think about it," Emma added, knowing her maid couldn't resist the nickname she had given her when she was just five.

Emma had asked Graham to marry her, but it wasn't because she loved him; it wasn't like that. He had always been a good friend to her and she just knew he would be a good husband too, and since people wanted the rest of the kingdom it wasn't safe for a princess to be alone.

Not that she couldn't take care of herself; Emma would have kicked the ass of the first man who tried to flirt with her, but Graham was safe and her best friend, and she needed him at her side.

It wasn't like Emma believed in true love.

"I know, Missie", Joanna cried, arranging her dress. "It's just that I'm not ready to let you go yet."

"I know, Nana, me too, but I'm not married yet", Emma replied, kissing her forehead, trying as best as she could to comfort her; she had no idea how long she had before her father decided to marry them, and with the book finally in their possession, it was probably just a question of weeks. If not days.

Lifting up her dress so she could walk, Emma went in the direction on the door, ready to face the whole court, even if she felt uncomfortable in that dress.

"Wait! Wait, M'lady! You can't go without your tiara!" Joanna ran holding her back and Emma sighed bending down so it could be placed it on her head. Joanna made sure it was in place, then joined her hands together and admired Emma.

"Please, Nana, don't cry, it's just a tiara."

"I know, I know", Joanna choked out, doing her best not to shed a tear. "I just can't believe you've grown up so fast."

I can't either, Emma thought, titling her head and offering her maid a brave smile. A part of her wished she was still young and not promised to a man, as nice and gentlemanly as Graham was, she wished she had the choice.

She wished she could see the seven seas.

"Emma?" Her father tentatively opened the door. "Can I come in?"

"All clear your majesty", Joanna clapped her hands, drying off a few escaped tears with her apron.

The look on her father's face almost made Emma blush.

"You are beautiful", he said and smiled at her proudly. "You look..."

"I know", Emma cut him off because she didn't want to think about bad things tonight; they were going to celebrate the new life and it was time to let go of the ghosts of their past.

Snow White was dead. It was time to move on and live.

Prince David was wearing a red suit, something quite dashing that made him look like a real prince Charming, royal and confident.

"Come on", he offered her his arm, a fatherly smile on his lips. "We have a party to give."

"I didn't put this stupid dress for nothing", Emma held her dress and walked to him, slipping her arm through his, their hands lanced together as he guided her through the cold castle.

As promised, the celebration was incredible and beyond expectation; Red had created an astounding ball. Snow's best friend was still really loyal to them, helping them with everything she could and being of great help to Emma.

After all, she was her Godmother, although the wolf woman had refused to raise her, Snow's presence making it all so complicated for them.

Alive and still dead, stuck somewhere in between, never allowing them to move on.

Emma had been forced to dance, though dancing with Graham wasn't that bad. It was the act in itself because the whole dancing thing was something she had never appreciated, dance teachers losing their patience over her two left feet.

Nevertheless, Graham seemed to really appreciate the dress and had convinced her to allow him more than one dance, much to her regret; she tried not to step on his feet too much, and wearing that dress didn't make it easier, but Graham was a kind partner, and had led her well, making sure Emma didn't fall. Right after him, her father had requested a dance, which Emma had more willingly accepted, more comfortable in her father's arms, feeling like a child again just for a moment; it felt nice.

"You look incredible tonight, sweetheart", her father said once more, and this time it did make her blush.

"I prefer my usual outfit", Emma laughed, lowering her voice so only he could hear her, her comment making him chuckle.

"I know, and I also know that you are more skilled for a swordfight than you are for dancing."

Emma shot him a look full of indignation and feigned annoyance.

"This is not really nice of you. I'm trying to do my best."

Charming's smile widened even more if it were possible.

"And I know I'm going to have to put some ice on my feet tonight."

"Rude", Emma arched a brow, stepping on his feet on purpose and giving him her best innocent smile.

"She would have been proud of you."

Emma's demeanor changed immediately.

"Can we not talk about her?" Her palm turned sweaty in his hand and she was suddenly uncomfortable, wanting to run away.

God it was too damn hot in this room.

Stupid fluffy dress.

"I know you fought", Charming spoke calmly, his tone steady and still cheerful as he made her twirl.

"Fighting implies two people, and she's not here", Emma bit back sharper than what she had wanted, instantly regretting it when her father's face fell.

"Don't say that, she's not gone forever", he shook his head, squeezing her hand. "She's lost, that's all."

"After twenty-five years?" Emma arched a brow, looking around her for help, but finding none. "She's dead."

"I know she's alive, she's here sometimes, I can see it in her eyes, I can feel it."

"She's heartless."

"She's still the woman I love."

"I don't believe that", Emma confessed softly; it was true though, as lovely as the romantic the thought of Snow White still being alive and able to feel and see them, it was also way too painful to hope that someday they would have her back, and plus, Emma had never known her so how was she supposed to care for a person she had always known as cold, mean, and indifferent to her presence.

"Well, well, well, I'm wounded that you started without me", a man's voice echoed from the hall, the wooden doors opening violently. "I thought the party only started when the captain walked in."

 


	2. Meet the Captain

"Well, well", a voice echoed in the hall, the high doors opening suddenly to show a man dressed in leather, a sword fixed to his belt, and from his looks Emma guessed he was a pirate. "I thought the party only started when the captain arrived", the "Captain" commented, a hand over his heart as if he were hurt.

"You haven't been invited, Hook", Charming said with authority, placing himself in front of Emma in a protective father gesture. At the "Hook" moniker Emma's eyes went to his hand, or more precisely, to where his hand was supposed to be; there was a shinning hook in its place. "Hook" seemed to be the kind of guy who loved shiny stuff, judging by his necklace, earring and numerous rings. Emma was surprised with the familiarity her father talked to the pirate; this was obviously not their first meeting.

"You're wounding me, Prince Charming; after all, I helped Graham bring the book here safely. A little bit of recognition wouldn't hurt, you know", the pirate gestured, looked over the buffet, took an apple and bit at it. "And I guess this charming lady you're protecting must be Emma", Hook stepped closer, but was stopped by her father brandishing his sword.

"Princess Emma", Grumpy interrupted them, placing himself in front of Emma too; the pirate smiled smugly and gave her a bow. "Your charms have been the talk of the seven seas, my lady, but the stories didn't give your beauty justice."

If Grumpy hadn't shown him his teeth and clenched his jaw, Emma was almost sure that Hook would have come closer and tried to kiss her hand.

"Back off, Hook", the dwarf snapped and took a step forward, almost growling between his teeth.

"What do you want?" Her father narrowed his eyes at the pirate as Graham came to place himself at Emma's side, an arm on hers in a protective gesture that would have made her roll her eyes if it had been anyone else but him.

"There should be a captain somewhere in there, your majesty", the pirate corrected before pointing at the assembly, and, to Emma's surprise, stared at her, his sharp eyes taking in how close Graham was to her and examining their posture, which, to be quite frank, was really curious and strange, coming from a man or whatever you could call a pirate using a hook for a hand. "What do I want? But to celebrate, and maybe if I'm lucky, to dance with that lovely daughter of yours."

"I swear Hook if you don't leave this castle within seconds, I will cut your only hand", Charming threatened, pointing his sword at him.

"Why are you saying that you made sure the book came here safely?" Emma asked, getting away from her father to face the pirate.

Hook ogled her without shame. "That dress is something, love, I must say."

"Emma", her father called, but she ignored him, stepping closer to the pirate, not for the world afraid of him.

"Answer my question pirate."

"Bossy? Aren't you a tough lass? Just like I love them", Hook said, looking back at his crew and they laughed, but before he could see it coming, Emma went past Grumpy and her father, reached for his sword and held it straight in front of her, right under his nose.

"She can also hold her sword just fine. Answer. The. Question", she repeated.

"Aren't you full of surprises, Swan? I love that. I'm curious to know or rather find out if you also hold your rum as good as your sword", Hook licked his lips in a not very subtle way, his hook reaching for the sword, the point of it sliding inside the curve of his hook; he wasn't trying to get it out of his way, he was just playing with it. Obviously, he didn't mind the sharpness of it pointing at his throat. "Ask Graham. I helped him."

Emma bent down to reach for the dagger she kept hidden in her boot; she wasn't allowed to wear pants tonight, but she had made a deal with her father and nanny months ago that she wouldn't have to wear heels. She was fast, thanks to years of training, but Hook was faster, and he pulled her in his arms, his hand closing around her wrist and twisting it enough so that her sword fell to the ground, but her dagger still ended up under his neck.

Even if it burnt her tongue to say so, he was really good, a fighter like she hadn't met in a long time, or ever.

"Aren't you amazing?!" He laughed, holding her tighter against him.

"Guards!" Charming yelled, the men obeying and forming a circle around Hook and Emma.

"I'm flattered, your majesty, so much attention just for me."

Emma added pressure on the dagger and shot him a dark stare.

"Let me go or I will cut your throat, pirate."

"Be careful, love, those things are sharp", the pirate whispered a breath away from her lips.

"Don't you think I know that?" Emma snapped back, a smile drawing itself on her lips, even though she shivered at the sensation of the cool hook against her back; she could feel it even through her dress.

"Everyone calm down", Graham made his way through the crowd, "he's saying the truth."

Emma pushed the pirate away from her, fighting his embrace; she had to say, for a man with only one hand and a hook, he was pretty damn strong. Smiling like a child, Hook finally let her go. "Finally, Graham, my friend, it was about bloody time."

The pirate walked around her to meet Graham, not paying attention to the guards.

"He's saying the truth, your majesty", Graham addressed Charming and ignored the pirate, rolling his eyes at his antics. "I've been attacked by a kraken and this very pirate here helped me fight it."

"A what?" Emma asked loudly, looking at them with stupefaction.

"A kraken, love", Hook shot her a devilish smile, "a lot of tentacles, stinky and all, a kraken. Not the kind of creature you want to meet during a nice trip upon the seas", he explained like if it was the most logical thing in the world, with his head cocked to the side.

Did he have to smile like an idiot?

Emma glared at him with annoyance, one hand on her hip, the other still holding the dagger, her father coming to her and wrapping his arms around her. "Are you okay, honey?"

"I'm fine, I can handle myself", Emma replied, quickly hugging him back before pulling away; she wasn't really comfortable with such gestures in private, less so in public.

"Quite a though daughter you have there, mate", Hook grinned, his tongue licking his lips.

"Majesty", Grumpy growled.

"Who would have thought dwarves were so strict with the protocol", Hook laughed, followed once again by his crew and Emma noticed that they were actually all older than the Captain. Curious; she wouldn't have thought that pirates were allowed to be captains that young.

Maybe it was because of the hook.

The guy-linered bastard was fast though.

"Behave, pirate, or you will need another hook to cut your meals", Charming warned and came to stand next to Graham. "So you helped Graham bring the book?"

"Aye, I did", the pirate replied and hooked his thumb in his belt. "Now can we go back to the celebration? My crew is starving after such a fight, and the least you can do would be to let us join the party", Hook pointed at his crew; they didn't move since they had arrived, not even when Emma had threatened to cut their Captain's throat, probably because he hadn't ordered them to. Her father looked at Graham, who nodded, and Hook chuckled. "Good, now let's go back to the celebration."

And at his words, and the king's order that followed quickly, everyone went back to their occupation, which was either dancing or talking; Graham went to Emma and placing an arm around her waist.

Emma didn't look at him, her eyes still focused on the pirate.

"Are you okay?" Graham asked, worry evident in his voice, and she quickly gave him a reassuring smile, before pointing at the pirate.

"You know him? You seem quite familiar with each other."

Graham let his arm fall from her waist and looked at the pirate coming toward them. "We've known each other for a while now; sometimes it seems like forever, actually… You tend to lose track at the sea", he breathed heavily which caused the pirate to smile widely.

"You should know that forever is a concept that you and I don't share, my friend."

Emma stared at them, not understanding what was happening; Graham noticed and gripped her hand.

"Hook-"

"Captain Hook", the pirate corrected, earning a long sigh coming from Graham.

"We met on the sea and..."

"I made a deal with that sailor to let him pass without too many damages. Secure his journey."

"Really? I didn't know pirates had such a soft side", Emma couldn't believe her ears; her face must have been funny because Hook laughed, patting Graham's shoulder.

"Not really, I just took a generous amount of his treasures."

"That's stealing!" Emma's eyes widened at the thought of anybody taking their gold.

"Pirate."

"Pirates aren't good people."

Hook curled his lips in dissatisfaction. "You're hurting me lass; is this because of the hook? I would have you know that there is a heart under all this leather; maybe you should touch for yourself", he added with a smirk and attempted to lean closer, but Graham's hand on his chest stopped him.

"Enough, Hook, you're flirting with my fiancée."

Straightening up, Hook looked at Graham from all his height; they were approximately the same height but Hook seemed to loom over him. "You should know that in the past that didn't stop me, wolf."

"I know, thank you, but she's my fiancée, and as an old friend of mine, you will back off", Graham said, a smile on his lips and a real menace carried in his words.

"Are you afraid I'd steal your fiancée, Graham?" Hook mocked, staring at Emma from under his eyelashes. "After such an affront, princess, and doubting the presence of a heart in my chest, the least you can do is grant me a dance", offering his hand, Hook looked at her with a challenging grin, waiting for her to accept his offer and play the game, or back off and admit defeat.

"Hook..." Graham started but was quickly cut off by Emma.

"Alright, one dance; that's the least I can do for the man who saved us all, after all." Her chin up, Emma placed her hand in the pirate's, accepting the challenge and sending Graham a comforting smile; Hook guided her to the center of the room, right to the middle of the dancing crowd.

"Come on, Swan, I don't bite", leaning in, Hook added with one of those grins Emma found herself hating already and she just had met him: "my hook isn't that sharp."

"I'm not afraid", Emma craned her neck to meet his eyes, chin up. "For a pirate, your sword is quite tiny and small."

"Oh", Hook chuckled, his lips forming an "o". "But you do bite."

"Don't let yourself be confused by the nickname they gave me; I'm no swan."

"Judging by how you dance, I will give you that point."

He shouldn't have chosen the moniker Hook but Captain Innuendo instead; it was much more appropriate.

Clenching her jaw, Emma put a hand on his shoulder, feeling strong muscles beneath her fingers, his warm hand guiding them, holding hers firmly as if he was making sure she wasn't going to run away from him.

That was not knowing her at all.

"Are you going to remain silent and force me to make the whole conversation, lass?" And before she could think of a an answer, Hook made her twirl around herself before pulling her abruptly against him and arching a brow, obviously pleased with their new closeness. "You're afraid."

"I'm not", she said angrily between her teeth, trying to fight his embrace even though she knew he was too strong.

"Your father doesn't seem to be quite happy with our dance; show a little bit more enthusiasm, princess, it's not that bad."

Emma rolled her eyes; was it even possible to be more infuriating than him?

"It's not my father you should be worried about", Emma bit back, gripping his shoulder with more strength, fingernails digging into the leather.

She hoped he could feel it.

"Oh, I'm not worried about your father at all, love", his laugh resonated in her whole body. "I know you can fight", he said and pressing his lips against her ear, adding in a reverent tone: "you'd make one hell of a pirate."

"And judging by your dancing and fighting skills, you should be a dancer, not a pirate."

"Is the leather bothering you?" There was a crooked smile on his face that Emma would have loved to wipe away if she could only find a way to make him shut up. "And for your information, my dear, don't underestimate me for one second; you have only seen a fragment of what I can do. Don't test a pirate."

Emma pulled away from him so she could hold his gaze. "I wear leather too", she said, proud of the effect her words had on him.

"My, my, I'm starting to like you, princess; as much as I appreciate your dress, the idea of you wearing leather pants is a picture I'll carry with me on the seas."

Emma made a face, not sure if she wanted to know what he really meant by "carrying it".

"How can a man like you can fight a kraken?" She asked, more than willing to change the subject, and Hook pulled away in another one of his dramatic gestures.

"It's the second time you've referred to my missing hand; I think you are in the obligation to grant me another dance", he said, but didn't let her answer him. "And for your information, I'm a pirate, love, with a sword and a hook, and I'm one of the best swordfighters you have ever seen."

Emma arched a brow, not buying it. "That's because you never fought with me, Hook." She refused to use his title, because to her, he was no captain.

"Are you offering something, love?" His tongue flicked over his bottom lip, her eyes fixing on it way longer than necessary before he shot her a bright smile. "The little show from earlier was full of promises; you've got to be thrilled." He moved his hand to her waist and brushed against the laces. "Is it me who's leaving you breathless, lass, or is it because of the laces? Which by the way, I'm really fond of", he punctuated his words by brushing his fingers once more against the material of her dress.

"If you don't stop right now, I swear, I'll knock you out in front of this whole assembly."

"You really are a tough lass", his smile lit his face and Hook stilled and loosened his embrace, letting her move freely or go if she wanted. "Don't tempt me."

Emma stayed in his arms and they started moving again, and Hook even allowed himself to make her twirl again before pulling her back to him. "Your father is staring", he commented, his voice low so no one else could hear them.

"Well, maybe it's because his daughter is dancing with a fearsome pirate."

"And what a handsome pirate", he felt the need to add, grinning at her and causing Emma to roll her eyes.

"Graham is watching too."

"He's afraid I'm going to steal his fiancée", once again his tongue licked his lips, not leaving any doubts on the subject; it was something Emma wished he'd stop doing, even though, if she was being truly honest with herself, she found that tic of his rather... attractive.

"Are you?" Emma asked and arched a brow with defiance; the arm around her waist pressed her closer to him.

"Only if you want me to", he said, his hot breath against her ear making her shiver, but she came back to her senses quickly and tried to keep her voice steady.

"In your dreams, Hook, just in your dreams."

"Oh, don't doubt it; I will dream of you."

"Is that what you say to every woman you meet?"

Hook brushed a lock of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering for long than they should on her bare shoulder. "Only the though lasses."

"Now you've insulted me", Emma laughed for the very first time since this evening started, but it was short-lived. "I'm not known for being common; you've probably met a lot of princesses but none of them were me."

It wasn't that she was interested in his opinion, but his manners and his cockiness were pissing her off. He was so full of himself.

"My apologizes if I've hurt your feelings, though I would think that someone like you doesn't really give much attention to what people are thinking of you… or are you fishing for compliments?"

"You're so full of yourself."

"Oh you have no idea."

She arched a brow, defying him for a long moment, silence buzzing around them despite the nosy crowd surrounding them.

Hook broke the silence, his eyes intense, all smugness gone. "I will confess that despite your rough appearance and manners-"

"You're a pirate, do manners apply to you?" She cut him off, only making his smile grow wider.

"If it wasn't coming from you, I would've been disappointed, love, but this is so much more amusing than the boring protocol your dwarf friend cares about so much."

"Grumpy."

"Funny little man."

"At least he's a man."

"And that adds another dance to the one you already owe me princess", Hook made her twirl once more before slamming her against him. "Protocol may not apply to us, but respect is still part of the game."

There was something about the way he said "us" that was so intimate and that Emma didn't know if she should be afraid or not.

"But I will agree with you that you're right on this."

Emma stared at him surprised, not expecting him to give her the point, not when he was one not to drop his guard.

Much like her, she had to recognize.

But the "captain" didn't know her if he thought Emma would let him win this easily.

"Let me correct myself, my previous statement was wrong, you are a man. Grumpy is just a better man than you are."

"So now you think I'm a man?" The pirate lifted an insufferable eyebrow at her, squeezing her hand in his, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand almost tenderly, and it made her both awkward and warm, but at the same time, his hook pressed against her back seemed to turn colder as if he was trying to make a point, reminding her of something she had apparently forgotten.

"You're just a man with a discutable taste for drama."

"Oh, is that so, princess?" His breath tickled her ear; he was almost mocking her, but not quite.

"Your entrance, your arrogance and the way you dance say it all", Emma analyzed, delivering her sentence with a straight voice.

"I do love making sure that my entrances are memorable", Hook shot back before brushing a strand of her hair with his hook, the sharp appendage not far away from her cheek, and yet Emma didn't find herself disgusted or afraid, because she knew, even though that knowledge could be questioned because she only met the man a few minutes ago, she knew that he was good enough with it not to hurt her; after all Hook hadn't hurt her or nicked her with it once, and that was quite impressive with the dress she was wearing. "But I can assure you that I do not dance like that with all the princesses I meet", he whispered in her ear.

"Is that so?"

"Only you, Emma", Hook pulled away to lock their gazes together which left her spellbound.

Emma opened her mouth, ready to say something but the words failed her, the use of her name after all the pet names he had given her having more effect than anything. Hook had whispered her name like it was something precious... like she was something he desired. The way his tongue flickered over his mouth for the probably thousandth time broke her reverie and she pulled away from him but Hook didn't fight her or forced her to stay in his arms, instead reaching for her hand and bending down once again.

"My name is Killian Jones", Hook said as his lips caressed the back of her hand, "and I would leave the captain out of it just for you."

"As I said, you love drama too much; are you sure you're a pirate?" Emma laughed for the second time, but still raised an eyebrow, mimicking him.

"I may be a pirate, but I'm still a gentleman. The name is Killian Jones, Emma Swan", he felt the need to repeat, letting his lips linger on her hand more than they should, sending a current through her veins that she hated even as something sparkled inside her.

Emma could almost smell the saltiness of the sea tickling her nose teasingly, temptingly, her brows coming together as she fought the strong feeling spreading through her system; there was no way the pirate could've brought the smell of the sea with him, and yet he did.

Or maybe it was because the sea was reflected in his eyes, tempting her to sail away.

Emma shook her head, trying to shush the freedom screaming in her ears making her want to run away, pirate or not, ship or not, princess or not.

She needed to get away from him. He was dangerous and it had nothing to do with the hook he wore or the devilish smile he gave her when she took a step back.

"Aren't you a challenge...", Hook trailed off, his eyes never once leaving her back as she walked away.

And yet, the smile that drew itself on her lips wasn't one Emma tried to fight.

 


	3. Dancing blades

If Emma had thought just for one second she could escape the rest of the ball she was wrong; not only Hook was eyeing her from the other side of the room, eating an apple and biting with more pleasure than a simple fruit should bring, certainly to piss her off more than anything else, Emma rolling her eyes at him, but Graham had decided that she should dance with him.

This luck Emma had found earlier seemed to have escaped her; even if during her whole dance with Hook she hadn't stepped once on his feet, Emma managed to make Graham stop twice, even stepping on someone's dress in her devastating clumsiness.

Offering a thousand apologizes to the princess or whatever title the girl wore, Emma tried to get away from the rest of the crowd, including her best friend and fiancé, ignoring her father's protest when he tried to stop her, his hand grasping air as she passed, walking fast to the closest balcony.

She needed to breathe, she needed a way out of this crazy kingdom where no flower, no hope could ever flourish in the eternal snow.

It was cold outside, and the wind bit her shoulder, brushing away her hair and sending shivers up and down her spine, and yet Emma didn't move, ever frozen.

What's the point, anyway; they were all frozen in time, in this land where life wasn't welcomed, where love had been defeated and where Snow White's heart had been ripped away from her.

"Trying to escape your fiancé?" A smug voice came from behind, making Emma roll her eyes at the pirate.

"Maybe I'm trying to avoid you."

A low chuckle reached her ears as Hook walked to her so he ended up standing at her side, his eyes on the sea in front of them.

"Maybe you're trying to run away from your duty; you owe me another dance after all", caning his neck and tilting his head to the side so he was giving her a challenging look, Hook hummed softly and Emma lifted a brow, slightly amused.

"And what does a pirate know about duty?"

"More than you'd actually believe me, princess."

It would be lying to say that this conversation wasn't amusing to her, but Emma had learned a long time ago not to let herself get fooled by sweet smiles, knowing all too well that they held empty promises and hid the most horrible lies.

"I think the right term is your highness", Emma wrapped her arms around her, whishing she didn't have this heavy dress on, feeling vulnerable, knowing how she looked and what was probably going on in the pirate's head.

"My apologies, Highness", the word spilled from his lips with sarcasm. "So what are you doing all alone? Isn't it a "day of great joy" you need to celebrate?" Hook quoted her father's speech, his tone mocking.

"For someone who says he helped, your tone isn't proper, pirate."

"Killian", the said pirate corrected. "My intentions and what I did for your fiancé are two different things."

"And what does that mean, Hook?" There was a challenge on the tip of her tongue as Emma spoke his name, deliberately ignoring the smile he was offering her.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

"It means, while I helped your fiancé Graham, I have every intention to enjoy your company, love."

"You do not enjoy my company, Hook", she turned around, hand on her hip in an attempt to make herself look impressive, though wearing her pants would have given her way more seriousness than this stupid dress. "You enjoy my title and the challenge coming along with it."

Taking a step forward, Hook played with her hair. "Oh believe me, lass, I'm not interested in your title; you're not the first princess I found on my road, though you are, without doubts, a challenge, I'm way more..." his fingers wandered over the top of her dress, caressing the edge of her bodice, "way more interested in what's under the dress."

"You're arrogant; you think so highly of yourself you believe you can have, or should I say bed, every woman around the land", Emma bit between her teeth, not moving away from him, refusing to give him the upper hand.

"My bad, your Highness, you misunderstood me, although I wouldn't complain to see what's under the dress, I do love this... this fire you have."

"Fire?" Her eyes widened this time; she was completely taken by surprise by his words, but she tried to ignore the way his fingers moved over her collarbone and shoulder, the corner of his lips lifting in a smirk.

"There's something in your eyes, something threatening to explode at any moment…"

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Freedom. You're craving freedom, Emma", her name rolled over his tongue in an almost tender voice, overstepping the limits of courtesy by far and yet, Emma found herself quite speechless.

"Am I?"

"You are; you don't belong here", Hook uttered in a breath, putting a curl behind her ear, his fingertips brushing the hollow of her throat, his eyes falling on her collarbone and much lower.

"Oh and where do you think I belong? Surely not near you, pirate", Emma lifted her chin, stepping closer so she could meet his gaze, her tongue peeking out to lick her lips.

"The sea", he ignored her remarks, his tone serious and grave. "You belong near the sea."

Words failed her for a moment, the vulnerability she had felt awhile ago was nothing compared with what she was feeling right now, something low in her stomach jumping at his words; she wanted to agree with him and tell him to take her away from this hopeless land, forget about the book, about the little spark of hope Graham -and Hook- had brought to them, Emma wanted to jump and get rid of this dress, leaving on the first ship she found.

She had always wanted the big blue without daring to say the words out loud, knowing they would have fallen into oblivion, no one able to understand this need, not even Graham.

"You don't know me", Emma shrugged, looking away from him, messing with her hair to erase the touch of his fingertips against her skin.

"Open book."

"Excuse me?" She frowned at his words.

"Open book, love."

Staring at him, Emma didn't answer, walking around the Captain, trying to find a way out without losing this… fight, or whatever this discussion was.

"You seem to know a lot about me but I know nothing about you."

"You know my name love", Hook turned his head to look at her, his tongue flickering over his bottom lip.

"I know you're a pirate."

"You say it as if it were a bad thing", Hook shot back, a hand on his belt. His manners weren't the ones of a pirate, not that Emma had much to compare them with, but the way he stood -though she would credit it to his cockiness and arrogance- wasn't anything like the men who had spent all their lives upon the sea.

"How can it not be a bad thing? You're a pirate", Emma said, almost laughing.

"You're going to offend me, princess." The moniker in his mouth had nothing respectful, or courteous; it was almost like an insult, much like how she sounded when she said his title.

"I think it would take a lot more to offend you, pirate", Emma challenged him, forgetting about protocol and manners, all notion of personal space forgotten.

"Oh", Hook straightened up, his breath caressing her cheek. "I'm a man of honor, princess; I may be a pirate, but I'm no less a gentleman."

"Are you… Killian Jones?"

The use of his real name seemed to take him by surprise, and Emma smirked at his dazed expression, his eyes shining differently than before, making her give him a curious look.

"The book has been stolen! A voice screamed from the inside, a guard running among the guests. "The pirate! The pirate stole it!"

Emma looked at Hook, and before she had time to yell to the guard, the pirate had grabbed her by the arm and twirled her around so she hit him hard in the chest, his hook pressing against her throat, the coolness of the metal making her shiver even despite her attempt to suppress it.

"Get off me", Emma growled, her nails digging into his wrist, where his hand should have been, trying to get him to release her but his grip only tightened around her waist, holding her pressed against his chest. "Hook release me now or I swear to God-"

"Shhhh, princess, be nice and nothing will happen to you", Hook whispered into her ear, the tip of his hook caressing her neck without hurting her as the guards circled them, Emma's father standing in front of them with Graham at his side.

"Please Hook, release her, there's no need", Graham tried to smooth the situation down, "Let her go and I will make sure you make it out of here alive."

"I didn't steal the book", The pirate asserted between his teeth.

"You expect us to believe you?" David took a step forward, raising a hand. "You're holding my daughter captive with your hook against her throat; a thief would do that."

"Excuse me if I don't trust you to let me exit this castle alive, your majesty", Hook chuckled, walking backward with Emma, allowing her to turn around to face him, the hook still pressed against her shoulder. "Hello, love", the pirate smirked, his hot breath caressing her cheek.

"Let me go, Hook", Emma grinned back, pressing a surprising knife against his groin.

"Feisty, I like it", his hook travelled around her shoulder, lifting her chin up, before he pressed it against her throat. "I didn't steal the book", Hook whispered only for her, his eyes narrowing with seriousness. "I promise, I didn't steal it, love."

Emma straightened in his arms, ignoring the people around them and scanning his eyes, seeking the truth in his blue orbs, her grip around the knife tightening as she swallowed with difficulty.

"I believe you."

"What?" Her father shot from behind her but Emma silenced him by shaking her index finger at him, her eyes never breaking contact with the pirate. "If you say it's not you, then I believe you."

"Do you?" Hook arched a brow, suspicious, using his hook to replace a curl behind her ear.

"I have a sort of super power when it comes to lies", Emma affirmed, taking her knife away from his manhood. "I believe you. Now release me and I promise you that you'll make it out alive."

Hook stared at her with furrowed brows before letting her go; her father's men jumped on him as soon as he took a step away from her, bending his arms behind him and chaining him up, the pirate growling and tried to jerk away, his teeth gritted together. "You promised, love."

"I did, and you have my word that nothing will happen to you", Emma spoke highly, her voice loud and serious as she walked to the pirate, not leaving any room for her father and fiancé. "The book, however, is stolen. Do you have any idea who might have done it? One of your crew? It can't be a coincidence that it happened with you inside of our castle."

"I'm flattered, your highness, but I can give you my word that none of my men did it, not without my orders."

"But the book remains stolen. Your men are in our castle", Emma cocked her head to the side, admiring the features of his face; he looked young, around her age, and yet old, as if time had put weight on his shoulders… Something about him seemed stormy; it was probably the pirate clothes and the hook, or the way he was ready to jump on you at any moment, and yet, something in his eyes, when they met hers, seemed to be tainted with melancholy Emma had been, and still was, too familiar with.

"My men didn't do it; maybe you should look toward yours… What tells you your guards didn't do it?" Hook said with arrogance, narrowing his eyes at the man tightening the handcuffs. "I gave you my word, princess."

"Release him", Emma ordered, her father reaching for her and holding her briefly.

"You're sure?" He whispered, asking her softly so no one but Emma could hear. Nodding, she pulled away from him, turning to Graham.

"Watch the guards, check the ones supposed to watch the book."

"The guard who reported the thief was clear; it was Hook." Graham shook his head. "I can promise you it's not one of our best men."

"Your faith in me wounds me, Wolf boy", Hook laughed, his hand resting on his belt. "I didn't do it."

"We aren't accusing you, Hook", Emma cocked her head to the side, pissed off. "How do you explain it, though?"

Pressing his tongue against his cheek, Hook took a step forward, disregarding the guards who tensed, looking only at her, not even noticing how Emma's father gripped her arm, a hand on his sword. "I may have an idea of who it was, but I have no proof."

"How convenient", David growled. "No proof, no one to blame but you."

"The queen of Hearts", Hook said sharply, cutting off the king and looking at him with annoyance. "Cora, I think you know her daughter quite well, your highness", the pirate smirked, enjoying the dramatic silence, "she's the Evil Queen's mother."

The information hit her father hard enough to make him take a step back, his breath stuck at the back of his throat.

"That's right", Hook asserted, enjoying this way too much, and Emma shot him a death glare. "She's quite known for being able to change her form; she's an old friend of mine."

"How can we be sure you're not working with her?" Graham worried, holding his sword in front of the pirate, still not thrusting him, which only made Hook roll his eyes before turning toward Emma.

"Do you really think her taking my form, as dashing and handsome as I am, is working in my favor?"

Emma nodded, thinking about the whole thing and trying to make some sense of this mess, her eyes trying to find any trace of lies in his words.

"Emma", he said her name again, so softly, almost tenderly. "Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm lying."

"I believe you", She said before taking a step forward to meet the pirate, escaping her father's embrace, ignoring Graham when he tried to reach for her. "Can you help us, then? Find the Queen and bring the book back?"

"I have nothing to gain here; I don't care about the book", Hook shrugged. "I have no interest in meddling."

"We have gold, we can give you gold", Emma's father said from behind and she grimaced; they weren't rich, not with the kingdom dying slowly.

"We're not giving him any gold", Emma cut hit off. "He's going to help us in exchange for his life."

Hook gasped, taken aback, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Your words mean nothing, do they?" Hook let out a laugh. "You're more like a pirate than you let people know."

"I told you you'd make it out alive, and this is my way of holding my promise; help us and we will let you go with your life."

"I'm not one of your knights, so you can't just order me around. I answer to no orders but my own."

"You will help us. You can choose; walk away and I throw the knife I keep at my thigh at your back, and you can be sure I never miss my target."

Hook's eyes wandered over her dress with appreciation, before going up slowly to meet her stare, taking his time without an ounce of shame. "You're a woman of many surprises; I almost want to walk away just to see you reach for your blade."

"Don't push it, pirate", the king once called Charming called out, finally finding his voice.

"Do you at least know where to find that Queen?" Graham asked, stepping forward and placing an arm around Emma's waist in a possessive gesture that made her uncomfortable; they hadn't been touchy in public, and the nature of their arrangement was supposed to help her avoid that kind of things, but when she looked at him over her shoulder, Graham ignored her eyes, focusing solely on the pirate.

"I may know where she lives; been there before", the pirate said smugly, resting his hook next to his hand on his belt, the posture telegraphing arrogance. "Wonderland is where she is, surrounded by her people, but I wouldn't trust Cora to stay there for long."

"How do you know that?" Emma arched a brow.

"I have my sources, the oceans aren't a silent place, princess", Hook winked.

"So Wonderland is the place, is it?" Graham sounded pissed because of Hook's flirty behavior, judging by the way his fingers gripped Emma's waist.

"She doesn't stay there much, so we need to intercept her while she travels through this land", Hook stuck his tongue between his teeth, smiling at Graham, "when she heads back to her daughter's castle."

"Alright, you and I, we're going", Emma nodded, already making a mental list of the things she needed before boarding the ship.

"No!" Her father retorted. "You're not leaving, not to go to Regina's kingdom."

"Who do you think Cora works for?" Hook asked the king, cockiness at its best. "She's trying to get in her daughter's good graces, and the book is probably the best way to do it."

"How do you even know all this?" Her father narrowed his eyes at the pirate.

"Do we care?" Graham interrupted, turning his back to Hook so he could talk to the king only. "He knows where to find Cora and probably, knowing him, how to find the book too; let me go with him and I will bring back the book."

"No, let me go, please father", Emma almost pushed Graham behind her, gripping her father's hand. "Let me do this, let me help the kingdom, they are my people, they need me."

Smiling warmly, a ghost passing in front of his eyes, the king held their joined hands to his lip to kiss her knuckles, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Emma, I can't take the risk, I can't lose you too, Graham-" He turned his attention to her fiancé, "go and bring back the book."

"The princess should be the one coming", Hook spoke up, looking between Emma and the king- "She is the most motivated and she looks more than capable for this mission; she should be coming."

Emma's mouth opened wide in surprise that the pirate was actually taking her side against her father and fiancé, and she looked at him with shock.

"Don't be surprised, love, I'm more than thrilled at the idea of having you for my first mate", he winked, her father growling to threaten him.

"She's not going, that's my last word on the matter", David said, giving Emma a look and daring her to say a word.

"I will miss you, princess", Hook took her hand and kissed it lightly, his lips burning her skin where they brushed it, and Emma took her hand back abruptly before exiting the room, her heels hitting the floor angrily; she didn't care about the attention it brought to her, because she was way too mad to care.

.

.

.

.

.

.

When you were a child, sneaking in the corridors was easy; you would just tiptoe between the guards, waiting for them to walk away so you could run to the next point, laughing with a hand covering your mouth; Emma had done it with her future fiancé, Graham quite often.

What they hadn't known back then was that the guards were more than aware of their presence, playing the game and letting them sneak around.

So when Emma walked around the doorway on her tiptoes, holding her breath, she had to be twice as cautious, making sure she was invisible to the guards because for sure, this time, they wouldn't close their eyes and ignore her; her father had probably given orders for them to keep an eye out for her.

To hell with his orders; Emma wasn't staying behind when others were fighting for the kingdom. Joanna had tried to reason with her, telling her it wasn't a lady's place to fight, that Graham was the perfect man for such a task and she had groaned and fought hard, telling her maid and friend to give her father a note a long time after she had left port.

And even if Joanna didn't agree with her decision, the woman who had practically raised her had taken her hands between hers and kissed them, wishing her the best.

Emma couldn't just leave them to do all the work and stay behind. It wasn't that she was seeking praise or honors; she had little time for those things. No, she needed adventures, to get out of this castle and discover what the ocean could offer, the pirate, as upsetting as he was, had sparked something within her that had asked, if not begged for freedom; Hook had seen at the first look what she really needed.

An escape.

The sea.

Taking her warmest coat, Emma sneaked out of the castle, the task easier than what she had thought, years of walking around it had taught her all the exits, the ones guarded and the ones that weren't; she knew when the guards would take their break, answering the call of the alcohol left in the corridor.

The weather wasn't friendly, the fog had risen heavily and it made seeing anything beyond a yard away impossible; at this point, Emma was almost walking blindly, minding her step and looking over her shoulder. Her hood was on to made sure no one would notice her even though she trusted her maid would only tell her father in the morning, once the ship would have already left the docks.

The road between the castle and the shore wasn't really long, but a horse was needed because it would for sure made the way safer, so Emma paid the horseman, promising him that the horse would be brought back somehow, even though Emma couldn't really make such a promise; she had hardly gone to the docks, only accompanied by her father and a dozen of guards.

She galloped with ease, the wind talking off her hood, but Emma didn't mind, the breeze more than welcome against her hot cheeks, giving her a good excuse to let a few tears fall down; she was leaving her father behind, and she hadn't even bothered say goodbye to her mother, or the ghost of her because Emma had decided that there was no time and no point.

Secretly, she hoped that along this journey, she would find a way to bring back her mother along with the kingdom's heart; after all, wasn't Snow White the very heart of this land?

The sea perfume tickled her nose as soon as the castle disappeared behind her; the air was salty all of sudden, bringing a smile to her lips as she made her horse go faster, wanting to be there as soon as possible, blood pumping hard in her veins; it had been a while, if not forever since she had felt this free. Her hand gripped the reins tighter as the ships started to appear on the horizon, a sudden shiver travelling down her spine; Emma had no idea how she would sneak aboard, which she needed to do first because she very much doubted that either Graham or the pirate would let her come aboard willingly, although, Hook seemed to be more eager about her joining their quest, so he might turn out to be on her side for this.

Anyway, she couldn't risk it, and as she slowed down her horse, coming to the entry of the port, the heavy smell of the fishes coming to her nose and making her grimace; she found a place for her horse tying the reins to the rail, and she left him there after caressing the noble animal, feeling as if she was saying goodbye to her past life.

The port was dirtier than what she had remembered, and way more louder than the last time Emma had visited it; she hid her blonde head under her hood, since the last thing she needed was to be discovered as she walked toward to only ship she knew could be Hook's, an impressive black flag flying from the mast.

"Get out of the way, peasant!" An old man pushed her, Emma's hand going to the sword at her belt; she clenched her teeth together but let it go, jerking away. She wasn't used to people addressing her in such manner, and even though she was totally out of her comfort zone, she wanted to slap herself for reacting that way because the man hadn't meant her any harm; he was just drunk off his ass.

Shrugging, Emma continued toward the ship, seizing the opportunity of an open crate to get into it, closing it carefully.

Time for adventures had come.

.

.

.

.

 

"Bring that here and be careful or I will have you walk the plank", a rough voice ordered the men carrying her crate and Emma's head hit the corner, making her bite her lip not to yelp; she brought her hand to her mouth, trying to suppress the sickness in her stomach, hoping the pirate crew would settle her down quickly, or at least before she was sick for real.

She needed air, and she needed it fast.

Emma waited awhile, trying to listen to the conversations going on around her; she thought she had heard the pirate, Hook, and she was pretty sure she was in his cabin. The very idea had her arch a brow, because if Emma managed to get out while he was out, her visit would be interesting; it would be lying to say that getting a look at the captain's cabin, at his room, wasn't thrilling.

It was new and dangerous, and all… exciting.

"Cap'ain, the curly-haired man is out of control", another man articulated with a hard accent, Emma smiling at the funny name they had given Graham, wanting more than anything else to come out right that second to laugh at him, but she waited until Hook exited the room to finally come out, stretching her pained back with a sigh.

The room wasn't how she had pictured it. Emma had imagined something smaller, and the cabin was pretty impressive, though poorly decorated, or at least way poorer than Emma had expected; after all, the man himself seemed to be quite font of shiny stuff, judging by the way he was carrying a treasure on himself, but no, the room was simple. There was a bunk bed with a heavy wood table in the middle covered with ink, maps, and instruments Emma had no idea how to use, and there were many books, which a surprise for a pirate; she hadn't thought he could read even though in hindsight, his manners were worth a gentleman's if you didn't count the hook.

His bed was simple, so simple Emma thought for a second that she might be in a simple sailor's cabin; all her prejudices came from books she had read saying that pirates loved shiny stuff and loved to show off. So far, Hook had fit the description quite well, but his quarters showed something utterly different; Emma didn't know what to think, her fingers brushing over the maps on the desk, her eyes wandering over lines she didn't know, lands she craved to visit, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the pirate would tell her about them, because Hook had to have seen some of them, or so he had made her believe during their first encounter.

"Quite the surprise to find you here, Swan."

 


	4. Meet the Second Mate

Emma turned around with a start, her hand on her blade; she was on a pirate ship after all, and even though she might not have traveled around the world, she had enough lectures to know how it was done aboard one.

Pirates didn't like women, and even less princesses; her decision to come aboard was reckless and she was only now realizing in what danger she had put herself. Emma was a woman, a desirable one; she knew it from years and year spent at court, and there was no doubt in her mind about what was done to women like her aboard a pirate ship where sailors hadn't tasted the sensation of a woman's flesh for months. She forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat, waiting for the door to open.

To her relief, Hook was the one to come in; she knew, somehow, after their first encounter, that she didn't have to fear anything coming from him, not in this way. Strange sensation, to feel safe with this pirate, Emma thought, but still held her blade in front of her. Hook feigned surprise, closing the door behind himself before looking at her with half annoyance and half amusement.

"I have to say, I do enjoy the sight of you in my quarters; you should have made yourself more comfortable."

"I didn't come here for spending vacancies." Emma narrowed her eyes at him, putting her blade back into place. "Are you going to throw me overboard?"

"I'm a gentleman, love", Hook shook his head in disbelief, walking around her before taking a seat behind his desk, his legs stretched upon it, a hand on his belt. "I'm not going to stop you from joining the journey, I quite like the idea of you around; it makes things more… enjoyable."

"Is everything a joke to you?"

"Depends on who is offering fun", he replied with a teasing smile, only making her roll her eyes. His remarks might make him laugh, but she found them ridiculous; had anyone even fallen for those words?

"I wasn't expecting this", Emma changed the subject, gesturing around his cabin, her eyes falling on the lack of decorations. The mocking tone in her voice was crystal clear, especially because it was accompanied with a superior look she knew all too well how to wear.

"And what should a pirate's cabin be like according to you?" His eyes were arrogant, his voice sounded rough and it seemed she had pissed him off; good, she thought as he rubbed his hand over his chin, his feet going to the floor, his elbows resting on his knees.

"More like a Captain's."

"Ouch; you bite, don't you, lass?" He still had this stupid smug smile on his face; for her, coming from a place where smiles weren't the norm, it was sort of odd, out of place to have this man always grinning and making fun of her.

Pretty smile or not, Emma rolled her eyes, and he gave her an engaging expression she had experienced before.

"I'm not impressed easily."

"Oh believe me, love, I'm the one surprised here", Hook stood up, walking to her, invading her personal space again; had he ever even heard of it? "You're quite surprising… you almost shaved me the first time we met." By reflex, his hand went to his scruff; he seemed to take pretty good care of himself.

"Did I?" Emma pulled out her blade once again, the one that had been hooked on her hip, under her coat, and pressing it against his groin. "I think it was more something like me threatening your male parts."

"Be careful, Swan, that thing is sharp", Hook whispered in something that was meant to be a flirty tone, but he didn't know her at all if he thought he could have his way with her like that. Gesturing to her knife, Hook added. "I think I said something like this the last time."

"You did."

"But you didn't hurt me."

"That was before you put a hook against my throat."

The pirate laughed taking a step back and Emma let him go without resistance, her hand falling at her side, observing him as he went back behind his desk, his eyes wandering over the many maps on it.

"That wouldn't have happened if you were able to hold a sword properly."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Emma protested, almost snorting at his comment, feeling insulted; she might be what could be qualified as a bad princess, but she refused to see her sword skills being mocked unfairly because it was something she was proud of, and she wasn't about to let a simple, vulgar pirate reduce her to nothing but a princess.

"It's easy, sweetheart; if you were able to hold your sword, if you were on your guard, you'd have seen it coming and you wouldn't have ended, though I'm sure you enjoyed it, pressed against me, my hook against your throat."

"Says the guy who had my knife against his groin a minute ago", Emma says, standing in front of his desk, chin up proudly. "You have a hook for a hand, I hardly see it as a fair fight."

"These thoughts will lead you nowhere, princess; I'm a pirate, don't expect me to fight fair."

"Aren't you a gentleman?"

Her comment made him laugh. "I'm a gentleman when I need to be, but there's no room for one during a fight, not with my life at stake."

"Just like I'm no princess when I fight", Emma snapped back, earning a wider smile from the pirate.

"That you aren't", he agreed, his eyes wandering over her shamelessly for the second time since he found her in his cabin. Still, she could hear something in his voice she hadn't expected from him, something she had felt since the beginning; odd thing once again, but he seemed to respect her, or somehow, admire her. "But my dear, if you want to survive this world", Hook pursued, illustrating his speech by waving his hand in the air, "this trip, it's not like a princess you need to fight; you need to fight like a pirate."

"I fight like a knight." She bit between her teeth, a hand going to her hip to make him see her knife and sword. "At least I have a code, morals, things you can't claim to have."

"Those will lead you nowhere; code, morals, they are useless when you're upon the seas, fighting for your life, the minute you let your guard down, you get killed, easy as that", he asserted, bitterness oozing from every cell of him, his eyes lost over something behind her, as if Emma were transparent. "Code gets you killed."

"It keeps you honorable." Emma shook her head. "It's what makes one good."

"Being honorable is the fate of knights, knights who die on the field trying to fight for a king who doesn't care about them. Dying with honor doesn't change anything about the death, you're still dead."

"My father isn't like that." Anger made her hand shake; she might not agree with her father all the time, but Emma wouldn't accept those insults.

"Is he? Didn't you and your precious father, his highness the king, sent all those soldiers to war?" Hook narrowed his eyes at her, clenching his jaw hard. "To a war that wasn't theirs, fighting your fights for you when the war was already over; the kingdom is dead and lost and you still sacrifice your people and your knights for a lost cause."

"It's not a lost cause!" Emma groaned, her eyes widening, "Believing in the possi.."

"Possibility of a happy ending is a powerful thing, yes, I know your family motto, love, but what about your father mourning a ghost", he smirked darkly, "I know about your mother, or should I ban this word from my language when talking about her." Hook got up, walking toward her, his words hurting her deeply. "I wouldn't and shouldn't consider her your mother when she can't even understand who you are."

She slapped him, hard, her hand meeting his cheek before she had a chance to think about it. Hook kept his face to the side, licking his lip with half of a smirk, a little bit of blood at the corner of his mouth; he had probably been biting his lip to end up like this, but it was Emma's last concern for the moment. Anger was making her blood boil.

"As I said", his hook went under her jaw, the curve lifting up her chin, "she does bite, or hit. I hurt your feelings, fine, it's the last of my concerns, but you're sending innocent men to a war that isn't theirs, one you lost to the Evil Queen, so don't tell me about honor, not when your kingdom killed more men than have ever walked down my plank."

"You don't know a thing about my father or what we've been through", Emma said between her teeth, hoping her sharp tone would cut him as much as his words had hurt her, though Emma shouldn't care about the words coming from the mouth of a stranger.

"Do I?" Hook challenged her. "Are you really trying to tell me your father doesn't send knights to fight the queen to get revenge for his lost love?"

"What are you looking for pirate?" The nickname rolled off her tongue bitterly; she meant it like an insult, hoping to see him flinch at her words much like he had done with her.

They held stares for a while until Hook groaned. "Not your concern, your majesty."

"I-"

"Hook, we need to-", Graham opened the door, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of them. "What are you doing here?" Her fiancé looked her up and down, side-eying Hook, worry written all over his face. "You're supposed to be-"

"Home, castle, waiting for you?" Emma counted for him, letting go of Hook, pushing him away for good measure so she could look at Graham without trying to reach out for him. "I'm not going to sit there and wait for you."

"It's not…" He looked at Hook behind her, clearly not fond of her talking in front of the pirate, friend of his or not.

"Graham, I appreciate… I do appreciate your concern, and… everything", Emma said, finding herself wanting to stay there; she had the impression that the moment he gets her alone, he would do everything in his power to put her in a little boat and send her straight home.

Like hell; it wasn't happening.

"I'm not going everywhere; I'm going to help you bring back the book."

"You can't be serious!" He protested. "Tell her Hook-"

"No!" Emma cut him off, a hand in front of her stopping him from saying anything more. "You don't get to do that, I don't care about what you both think or say, I'm not going home, I'm here and I'm going to return the book to the kingdom."

Graham remained silent, and to Emma greatest surprise, so did Hook; they exchanged a look, which only made Emma more exasperated than she already was. Slapping her heels on the floor, Emma rose her hands to her head. "You two seem to have a lot of emotional things to say to each other, so please, be my guest, go exchange some poetry, I'm done, but I'm certainly not leaving." She slammed the door, happy that none of the men had decided to hold her back, her chest feeling heavy as the fresh air of the sea hit her hard, filling her lungs and giving her the impression that she was breathing for the first time in years.

That was how it felt like to have no walls, no barriers, no limits but the horizon and the sea, nothing but the blue ocean almost getting lost in the sky line, so blue right this second, so bright, so different from the dark snow she was used to. There was no need for the heavy coat on her shoulders so Emma decided to lose it, leaving it on the rail of the ship, before she walked further on the deck, eyes sparkling with excitement, with something warm in her belly, something she had so little time in her childhood to experiment through reading about it in books; hope filled her veins, the idea that something happy, happiness was how they called it, was maybe in her reach.

She had an open sky in front of her and an immense world just for her.

"Be careful, by having your nose in the air like that you're going to fall overboard." A man called behind her, much taller than Graham or Hook, and also way more impressively muscular. "You look new around here, your majesty", the black man said with a bright smile, warm and reassuring, but she still remained on her guard; he was a pirate after all, a heavy sword hanging around his waist, locked in place with a belt. Though, looking at him with more attention, Emma couldn't help but think he wasn't like the other pirates she had seen aboard because there was something in the way he walked, graceful as a jungle cat, and his voice wasn't rough like the other crew members', excluding Hook of course.

"No offense, but you look kind of out of place too." Emma cocked her head to the side, smiling wide, hoping he wouldn't take it the wrong way.

Thankfully, he just smiled wider. "Is this because of my skin color, princess Emma?"

Emma looked at him with surprise, arching a brow up. "It's not your skin, I wouldn't insult you that way; it's your manners, the way you talk and walk, you are different from the others."

"That's because I'm not a pirate to begin with." The man stood in front of her, a reassuring and sunny smile as he spoke. "Lancelot milady", he said and took her hand to kissed it reverently, "I'm familiar with your family, even a friend of your parents."

"A friend? I don't remember your face from the court." Emma narrowed her eyes at him; he had a face that would be quite hard to forget, and if as he said he was a friend of the family, she would have for sure remembered him; they had too little friends in these dark ages.

"That's because I left court a little while after your birth, your majesty; I was a friend of your mother."

Emma tensed.

"But not of my father?" She asked harshly, clenching her jaw; many people had left after her mother's "death" and it made her literally see red that people didn't pay their respect to the king, to her father, especially when he was trying so hard to hold it all together.

They had all left when her father, Prince once upon a time called Charming, had been trying to deal with the disappearing of his wife, trying to raise his new born baby and keeping the kingdom at the same time.

Betrayal tasted bitter in her mouth.

"I had my reasons and I do not expect you to get it", Lancelot spoke softly, noticing her changed mood. "I do respect and hold your father the King David in admiration, but other things in this life called me."

"Life aboard a pirate ship with a handless Captain with a ridiculous taste for shinny stuff and eyeliner?" Emma said between her teeth, eyeing the door of the Captain's cabin. She couldn't understand how this life could be better than being with someone you were proud to serve. But, then again, a part of her felt an echo in his words; what had she done if not run away from her father the first chance she got? She was no better.

Lancelot laughed.

"I can see her in your eyes, in the way they widen angrily, she was a lot like you, your mother", he said in an awe of admiration, remembering a past Emma hadn't had an idea of, his eyes staring at her face. "You do have your father's strength, but it's definitely your mother's fire."

"You knew them well", Emma said bitterly, almost jealous of this man who knew more about her parents than her; all she knew was two ghosts walking around her without paying much attention to anyone else.

"I was your mother's friend." Lancelot took a step closer before taking her sword out of its scabbard; Emma let him, trusting that he wouldn't hurt her. Somehow, Emma didn't feel in danger around him; Lancelot had this aura that made you comfortable.

Not like Hook. If she knew, or thought, the pirate wouldn't hurt her, she was feeling uncomfortable with him nevertheless.

"Quite a nice sword you have here."

"It is."

Lancelot put it in front of him, lining it up with his eyes and examining the blade, trying the sharpness of it. "I miss these swords; as much as I like the pirate life, I miss the quality of our kingdom's swords. Don't tell the Captain, he'd kill me."

Emma tried not to flinch at the way he said "our", feeling like it was almost an insult coming from someone who had left them when her family needed help. And yet she kept her mouth shut; after all, Lancelot could quickly become her ally aboard the ship, and it better was to keep him that way.

Still, she decided to point out something, trying to tone down the roughness of her voice with a smile.

"Why would you leave the kingdom, us, your so called friends to be the pirate?" She looked around them, finding nothing to convince her or to explain to her why this life, the sea aside, would have been better.

Liar, liar, liar sang a little voice in her ear; this was exactly what she'd choose if she had been given the choice.

It only made her angrier at him and at herself.

"You have the wrong impression on our Captain, milady; Hook isn't who you think he is, he's a better man than the idea you made of him."

Emma's eyes widened in annoyance. "I really doubt that; I met the man, I even danced with him, and he's arrogant, with an insufferable taste for drama."

Her answer made him laugh. "I can't say much, your highness; it's not my story to tell, but believe me, I wouldn't be aboard this ship under his orders if he were who you describe."

"I'm not interested on meeting or making friends aboard this ship or during this journey; I'm here to help my kingdom find what had been stolen from us."

"Don't worry, we will", Lancelot nodded. "Come on, show me how your skills are doing, show me if you're better than your mother."

"My mother used a bow, I prefer the sword."

"That's a fair point indeed", he winked, lifting his own sword in front of him and giving hers back. "Your highness." He bent down, smirking.

Shaking her head with an honest and genuine smile, Emma put the sword back into its scabbard.

"As much as I would love to show you how I fight, I have something to do." Offering the man an apologetic smile, Emma excused herself before she left, ignoring the disgusting stare of a pirate to her left; the look of lust was evident in his eyes, he was dirty, older than her and certainly not very well advised. Emma's hand clenched around the end of her sword, holding it tightly as she opened the door of the cabin, fighting the need to vomit, knowing it had nothing to do with the sea.

"Emma?" Graham said in surprise, standing up from his seat while Hook remained where he was, a smug grin on his lips when he saw her. "We-"

"No." She stopped him and spoke over him, her eyes laid on Hook, knowing that as the Captain of this journey, he was probably the one to have the last word, especially if it concerned his ship, his crew, his men.

She not once looked at Graham while she delivered her speech, feeling sure and confident because her talk with Lancelot had sparked something within her.

Living like a ghost wasn't the kind of life she wanted.

"I'm not going to let you decide for me; this is my life, and this is my kingdom… you will have to throw me over board if you want me gone, but don't think I'm leaving without putting up a fight", her eyes narrowed at Hook as Emma spoke again. "I'm the heir of the kingdom and I'm not letting anyone fight my battles, so get used to the idea, because I'm not going back home."

"Emma, I know you want to help." Graham reached for her hands and squeezed them together, trying to reason her, but he stopped when Hook got up, standing proudly with sparkling eyes.

"The lady wants to join us, and I'm not opposed to it; be my guest, love, join the crew, this couldn't be more exciting." The pirate's tongue flickered over his lips before he stepped forward, ignoring Graham completely. "You are more than welcome aboard, Swan."


	5. In the eye of the storm

The night had fallen fast, a phenomenon that was common upon the seas or so had Graham told her once, but Emma was really much more inclined to think that it was due to the excitement and the new prospect of this journey that had made the time run faster. She had avoided both men since their altercation because she didn't want to deal with the captain's boldness and comments, nor did she fancy a talk with her fiancé, not wanting to hear his speech about how all of this was a really bad idea.

She had let the fragrance of the ocean take her mind to some other places, getting to breathe the air in from the very waves and not the window of her chamber was a completely new experience; she felt like taking the first breath of air in forever, like it was the first time she was breathing deeply and filling her lungs with life. Lancelot was keeping his distance from her, though she had found his eyes lingering on her for longer than needed in a fatherly way she would very much like to get rid of. She didn't need another pseudo guardian. Had she been more inclined to yell at them, she would have until she made her voice hoarse with exasperation, but instead she decided to isolate herself from the rest of them, ignoring the crew and their glances here and there; they might look, she thought, but she had seen enough of Hook's character to know that none of them would try anything. The Captain had made that point clear.

Plus it wasn't like she couldn't handle herself.

Readjusting the coat on her shoulders, she noticed how bright the stars were tonight, remembering the constellations from the old lessons and finding herself quite disappointment when she wasn't capable to tell which one she was looking at; she thought for an instant about asking a sailor, but the way they swore and spit on the deck made her rethink her request.

"Miss Princess?"

Emma's eyes met the silhouette of a man almost short enough to be considered a dwarf, a red cap on his head, his hands awkwardly held together, covered with a leather pair of gloves.

"Emma would be just fine", she told him; there was no need for protocol aboard the ship and considering how she wanted to fit in that environment, she didn't want Hook's men to talk at her using royal titles.

"Smee", he said and bowed in front of her, the motion almost comical considering he was doing it all wrong but endearing enough to make her crack a smile. "The Captain sends me to tell you that the dinner is served in his cabins."

She tried to bite back a snarky comment, something about how he couldn't come fetch her himself, or how she wasn't hungry, the sea didn't make her sick (yet?) but she wouldn't expose her fragile stomach to that kind of invitation, but knowing Hook from the few days they had spent in each other's company, she could bet that this was about to be another display of his manners. Something she wasn't eager to see or witness because she was still pissed even though he wasn't the one her anger was directed too.

"I will be there in a moment."

As Emma had thought it would be, the table was filled with all kinds of food, an impressive set of substantial meals, the places set with expensive crockery. Hook had added to the table all kinds of fruits, the kinds you wouldn't expect to see on a ship, and Smee was running around it trying to settle everything in its rightful place. The Captain was sitting at the head of the table, his whole attention on a map he had laid out on his lap, his feet propped on the table – so much for manners – a compass in his hand as he measured what Emma guessed to be the distance from here to whatever place they were heading toward.

She needed to talk to him about what they would do because there was no way Emma would let these men decide for everything on this trip. Smee offered her a seat in front of the Captain, the big table somehow managing to fit in the cabin. Graham was already there, sitting to her right, offering her an apologetic smile; she forced herself to give an answering one back, her attention caught by Hook finally noticing them.

"Forgive my manners, Swan, I had to finish examining this before we eat dinner; you'll be happy to know that Smee tried his best to cook us a proper one. It might not be what you're used to in the chateau, but I'm sure you will be able to appreciate the efforts of our cook."

"Contrary to what you seem to think, I do not need this kind of display of food, I would have been fine with whatever Smee usually offered you." Casting a glaze to the man in question, Emma noticed the way he blushed, though part of it seemed to be due to consummation of beverages. With a motion of the hand, two fingers raised in the direction of the cook, Hook sent him away to bring the meals, fish – of course - the surprising thing being the way Smee had presented the food; quite elegantly for a pirate.

"You can withdraw now, Smee."

They were finally alone, just the three of us when someone at the door knocked before entering dressed all in black but not like a pirate but like a physician; he had a weird look about him, not helped by the glasses resting on the top of his nose. The way he walked was not of this world, and he moved with extreme grace that made him deserving of Emma's actual surname. He sat next to Hook, and it looked like they were sharing a special bond that not even Graham had with the captain. In fact, Emma was almost convinced that a genuine smile had been on the pirate's lips for a brief instant.

They mostly ate in silence, Hook and his friend exchanged a few words here and there, accompanied with a lot of rum for the pirate but none for the other, keeping it strictly to wine. Emma had tasted the fish and if the taste had surprised her at first, she had forced herself to swallow. She had spotted Smee stealing a glance at her and Graham, waiting for the reaction to his food, and as ridiculous as the small plump man was, the sentiment of endearment he caused in Emma was what made her smile as she tried to chew down the food.

She ignored Hook's eyes running over her figure because if her good manners made her show mercy to the sailor, she had none for the merciless pirate.

Graham tried once again to catch her attention, his hand grazing the underside of her arm but she ignored him again.

"Will you have the decency to tell us more about our trip? I know we are just guests aboard but as we are directly concerned by the journey I think we are within our rights to know about your plan. Captain or not." The last bit of her sentence was spoken with a harshness that didn't match the rest of her tirade, the tone being one she generally used to speak to ambassadors or when politician was at the party.

Instead of bringing up the underlined insult of her words and disrespect for his own title, Captain Hook straightened up in his chair, eyes shining with challenge and enjoyment, "I will be more than pleased to discuss our journey to Cora's kingdom or wherever the sorceress decided to take residency, but how we get there or the road we take is, your Highness", the word stressed between his teeth was borderline insulting, "is I believe a captain's matter."

Focusing her attention on the portion of fish she was currently cutting with her knife, Emma didn't even bother to lift her eyes to look at him, "I'm sorry to tell you that as long as I am aboard this ship, I intend to be informed of the decisions taken, knowing they might put my life, and Graham's in danger."

Hook laughter filled the room, warming the atmosphere.

"Your boldness and spirit will never cease to amaze me, Swan," the easiness with which he could go back to her surname after calling her by her title destabilized her for a moment, "but again I shouldn't be surprised when it's coming from the woman who held a knife to my manhood within five minutes of meeting me."

The physician who had remained indifferent to her and Graham went from general annoyance to being amused, arching a brow in her direction, his eyes going from his Captain to her, his cheeks slightly rosy with the booze.

"I'm impressed", he addressed he for the first time. "You must be quite reckless, or careless to attack this man here."

Emma frowned at the comment, insulted that she was considered to be a random maiden. "I would think that you would have missed your lover's manhood if I had in fact cut it off."

That had the delicious effect of making the man choke on his wine.

"Pardon me?"

"Emma." Graham tried to smooth things over while Hook was chuckling even more.

"Where are my manners, love, I'm sorry that revealed the jealousy in you, you and my friend here have not been introduced; Victor is the physician aboard the ship, and contrary to what Swan seems to think, not interested in my person, though my looks could make a man swing to the other side. Victor, I have the pleasure to introduce you to her Highness Princess Emma, daughter of King David and feu Snow White.

Not even giving a second of her attention to Victor, Emma continued, Graham's hand resting on the crook of her elbow not stopping her. "Why would Cora want the book?"

"As if I was in the sorceress's mind or in her plans; I can't tell you that for sure, Princess."

Yet, despite his words, Emma understood that there was more to this than what he desired to say; if she decided not to push it now, she noted in a corner of her mind that she would have to speak to the pirate sooner or later, preferably the sooner the better. She might be mad at Graham, but she refused to put either of their lives in danger, because no matter the relationship he and Hook shared, she still hadn't made her mind up on whether or not they could trust the pirate.

"And to finish this delightful dinner Princess, good news; I arranged a room for you and your fiancé, the one next to this cabin, so if you need anything from me, you will just have to knock at my door."

From the corner of her eyes, Emma saw Graham rolling his eyes, relaxing in his chair, drinking his wine in silence. Emma did not give much importance to Hook's words and the invitation; she couldn't fathom a realm where they would possibly be engaged in an affair. It was too much like those romance books Joanna had tried once to make her read, praising the good feelings of the characters and impeccable plot.

"That is very appreciated, thank you for that, now if you'll excuse us." Her eyes drifted to Graham, a silent order to follow her, "We will call this a night. Thank you, Smee," She turned to the sailor cramped in a corner of the room, trying to fake concentration on the clothes he was holding, trying to fix the holes the crew made in their shirts. If he wasn't a sailor, he could for sure find a job of better prestige than the one of a thief.

Hook hadn't been lying when he had told her that he had arranged a room for them aboard, though poorly equipped, just a bed - thank God, clean sheets – and a bowl of water out on top of a rusty and old desk. She had planned on sleeping in a simple pair of pants and a white shirt she had managed to take with her in her haste; Graham and her might be best friends and engaged, but there was a limit to their intimacy that they had still not crossed, one she was not eager to come to any time soon. As handsome as Graham was, she tried not to think of it.

In a better world, Emma would be given the chance to choose for herself without having to suffer the strict rules forced on a princess.

"I don't want you to be mad at me." Graham put an end to the silence, resting on the bed on his elbow, his eyes staring at her with an intensity that made Emma uncomfortable. She was used to men looking at her, at the Court or even on this ship, hell she even put up with Hook doing it, but Graham? He was supposed to be her best friend. "I'm sorry if I upset you, I just want to make sure you're okay. I promised your father the King-"

"No, no", Emma shook her head, "You don't get to blame my father for you being overprotective; you and I both know you don't need him telling you what to do to act like that." She laid down onto the bed, still aware of maintaining a certain distance between them.

"Alright. Point taken." The smile that pulled at the Huntsman's lips warmed her mood slightly. "I can still sleep on the floor if that's what you want."

She rested her hand on his cheek. "No, it should be fine, just don't spoon me and I won't kick you in the ribs. Or worse." Her tongue rolled the last word and she raised an eyebrow, closing the distance between them to give him a soft kiss on his cheek, her nose nuzzling his, not crossing the invisible line between them. "Now bed, you don't want to get sicker."

"I can't tell you how eager I am to reach land, I hate the ocean."

Emma laughed, letting her head fall on her pillow, surprisingly nice and comfortable. "Maybe you should have stayed at home and let me handle this alone."

"And let you have all the fun without me? No way." Graham reached for her hand under the covers and squeezed it. "Goodnight Emma."

"Graham?"

"Hum?"

"I'm not mad at you."

**xxxxx**

If the night fell quickly upon the sea, sleep was idle, not coming for her at all; Graham was snoring next to her, an arm on her stomach that Emma quickly pushed away, not comfortable with that, feeling like she was held too tightly though his touch was loose on her. Yet, the way her hair rose at the back of her neck was saying much. She passed her hand through her hair and realized how sticky it was, mainly due to the oceanic air getting in her curls. What would she give for a bath, though she would rather die than ask Hook for such a favor; the bastard would enjoy it way too much and probably even ask –or not- to stay to enjoy the show. Sitting straight, Emma reached for her boots and quickly put them on, following by her heavy coat, the wool inside of it more than welcomed on her frozen shoulders – it was insane how the nights were chilly upon the ship, and Emma came from a place where snow was never ending.

She finished lacing the front of her cloak before she carefully closed the heavy wooden door behind her, letting Graham sleep. Maybe the fresh salty air of the ocean would help her calm her burning nerves. Taking a few steps on the upper deck, Emma locked gazes with a toothless sailor, his sheepish smile sending a cold chill along her spine, and she hastily quickened her pace to get to the rear of the ship when a familiar voice from above her head called her name.

"What a nice surprise, love, are you planning on leaving us?" Hook was holding the wheel of the Jolly Roger, his teeth bright in the dark as he spoke, something that remained a mystery for Emma when all the sailors in his crew had the worst dental health she had ever seen. "Come up, join me, don't stay down with the crew."

There was no reason to refuse, and she still could feel the lingering eyes of the men on her back; she had never been more grateful to have her cloak than now because it covered all her body to her toes, only her face barely showed - her nose, lips and curls. As she came to the Captain's height though, Emma took off her hood and stayed at his left, looking straight ahead.

"Are you going to stand at my side and enjoy my looks or am I going to have to make the conversation, princess?"

"I would rather not have you call me that if you may," she gave him a death glare, her hand resting on her waist, "If you are the gentleman you claim to be, you will stop doing so since I ask, right?"

"Contrary to what you seem to believe, I am not trying to insult you by using your title, unlike your use of mine." He tilted his head to the side, his face amused but still tainted with an inch of seriousness that took her slightly by surprise, more used to the smugness of their exchanges.

"So it's just to piss me off then, because that's certainly working."

He frowned, a line forming on his forehead as he studied her with narrowed eyes. "Why is it such an embarrassment for you to be called Princess, love?"

Emma smiled for what must be the first time since they started this trip. "I don't have to justify myself. Just stop."

"But the question wasn't exactly one; I know your reasons, I am just interested in knowing why you think that." He stared at her for a while, before continuing, "I told you that you were a free spirit seeking the ocean because I see it; you're quite the open book love, and I do understand that you would rather not have men reduce you to what you think is an insult to your skills and capacities. I am, for that matter, fairly convinced that you could take any of my men in a fight and make them take a closer look at the good old deck of the Jolly."

"Any of them," Emma raised a brow.

"Aye, except me, of course." He chuckled, his hook angling the wheel to the right, his eyes focused on the horizon as if checking some kind of calculus he had made in his head before he came back to her, "But that isn't the point, we were discussing your problem with the word princess. Nobody is saying you are any less of us."

"Tell that to all the men around me. You know I didn't come aboard this ship with my father's blessing, nor Graham's for that matter." She sucked a deep breath at the mention of her father, closing her eyes briefly at the idea of him discovering her empty room followed by a devastated Joanna crying into her apron that the princess was gone.

"If it helps in any way, shape or form, love, I'm quite inclined to have you on the ship, even thrilled; like I told you before, I do find the prospect of having you aboard delightful."

"That is because you want to annoy Graham, and because you do enjoy a woman resisting your advances."

"Oh believe me, love, I have yet to try wooing you. The day I start doing so, you will know it."

"Is that a promise?" Her grin was wide as she enjoyed his current state of surprise, taking in his full frozen pose before watching him laugh.

"Oh Swan, you are teasing a man in his work, can't say it's a good idea to temp the devil." He shook his head, resuming his task for a good five minutes before asking her, all seriousness back and banter over. "Why are you doing up at this hour?"

"I simply couldn't sleep, and you?"

She actually found herself interested in the answer, her attention particularly taken by the whole steering a ship process; had she been braver she would ask him to show her how to, a thought she would keep for later, if not never. The idea of him getting too close was not repulsing her but alerting her to some kind of danger she couldn't put a name on.

"As you can see, I have a ship to steer and a crew to look after."

Emma's gaze wandered over the ship, attention focusing on everything that was hidden in the shadows; an old man – way too old in her opinion to be a member of a pirate crew - was checking the ropes, another one was sipping a flask of whatever alcohol he had in his hand and still sharpened his sword with his belt – a dangerous activity that didn't seem to concern anyone aboard the ship.

"I would have thought you would have someone to take care of it while you enjoyed your beauty sleep."

It wasn't fair to imply he wasn't a good captain, Graham had told her the contrary just a few hours ago, assuring her that under his annoying and shiny personality, there was actually an excellent sailor, if not the best, who had quickly and at such a young age, gotten a fairly fearsome and impressive reputation, something working to their advantage upon the dangerous no man's land seas, very few ships would dare to attack them in the view of Hook's flag.

"I am naturally dashing? That lovely blush on my cheeks? That nice glow, all natural", he paused to wave at his person, "and I don't make it a habit of letting my men have the wheel of the Jolly; she is a beauty of man's hard work and I will kill the one who hurts her, plus, if you look ahead, there's a storm coming for us."

The sky however, despite being black and impressive was not what Emma would have called a visage of a storm coming right upon them. Hook must have noticed her composure toward the ocean, his hand grazing her elbow to bring her behind the helm, and right in front of him. "Can you see the clouds, they are heavy and low, too low on the sea, it is not natural, it's actually suspect. They are charged with electricity and I don't really like that in any way; this can't be good for us."

And then he added with a worried face: "You should wake up Graham, I'm afraid that what we will have to face won't be pleasant nor a peaceful ride."

"What do you mean?"

Taking a deep breath, Hook rested hishand on the hilt of his sword, fingers twisting around the metal, which was shaped in a weird way – the pattern hidden from her sight.

"The storm, it's nothing natural, it's magic. I think there's a ship hidden within it; we need to get prepared for an upcoming attack."

**xxxx**

The turmoil that had happened aboard the ship was one Emma had never witnessed before; she had seen battles from afar, read about a thousand of them, saw paintings describing terrific fights of swords clashing, but she had never been standing in the middle of one. The men were running from one side to another, in a seemingly chaotic yet somehow remarkably organized way; the men answered Hook's orders who, standing behind the wheel of his ship, seemed to embrace his full role of Captain.

She had mocked him before, however, staring at him now she saw that he was powerful, he was impressive and she wouldn't doubt his fearsome reputation. He was dark and strong, jumping from his spot at the quarterdeck of the Jolly Roger to shout orders to his crew.

The rain had fallen upon them, pouring drops wetting them all and adding to the terrifying atmosphere, the dark clouds and the lightning making Emma's shiver, her hair sticking to her neck, her hood not managing to protect her from the deluge. Hook was checking the knots of their sails and the works of his sailors, his spy-glass in his hand; he stopped several times to turn toward her, his expression marked with worry and determination.

"Swan ! There's a ship coming! Prepare for battle, this bilander is coming right to us."

She felt Graham's hand on her shoulder as he stood at her side to join her study of the ship coming right in at them; Hook had been right earlier, the storm was hiding a more dangerous prospect.

"They are attacking us?"

Emma rose her head up to Hook who was back behind his wheel, his hook scratching the wood, his eyes not once leaving the horizon.

"Bloody hell."

"Hook." Graham jumped the stairs up to the upper deck, "I thought we were safe from attacks. You told me Emma would be safe thanks to your reputation. Why is this ship attacking us now?" He was mad and Emma crossed her arms on her chest, sharing Hook's annoyance. Now was not the moment to talk about what promise might have been broken. The blazing black flag of the coming ship was waving on the horizon, threatening them from afar, even though there was no silhouette or distinctive man to see on deck yet.

Emma's blood froze.

"Blackbeard."

Hook's voice broke the silence at the same time the ship hit a powerful wave, sending Graham and Emma to the left as they held at best as they could onto anything steady, while Hook held only the wheel, sea legs indeed. Reaching for Graham, Emma checked if he was hurt; he was ashen, his complexion almost green, and she brushed one of his curls away from his forehead. "He needs to lay down, he won't be able to stand this much longer."

"Emma-", Graham tried to counter but he bent over to hold himself, gagging.

"We are about to get attacked, nobody can afford sleep or rest."

"He is sick!"

"And we have Blackbeard coming for my head, so no, Princess, shall I remind you, my ship, my commands, you are no royalty aboard the Jolly Roger, you are just another sailor of my crew, a guest at best, and I need every sword."

"He can't fight in this state. You can't force him to fight when he's this sick. He can't stand the life of the sea."

Chuckling humorlessly, a sound that had Emma's hair stand on the side of her neck, Hook shook his head, "Maybe Graham should have thought about it before deciding to join this expedition. I will repeat myself; as the Captain of this ship, I need all the men, and you, Swan to be at my side when our ship meets Blackbeard's."

"Isn't there a way to simply avoid him, this Blackbeard?"

Placing an arm under Graham, she helped him stand on his feet, calling on the sailors passing by to help her carry the man to the cabins. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed Hook nodding to the toothless man asking for the Captain's agreement, before he took Graham under the deck, to a safer place.

Hook sighed before gesturing for her to come to his side, handing her the spy-glass so she could take a closer look; indeed at the helm of the other ship, she could now distinguish a man, standing behind his own wheel. There were sailors running aboard the impressive ship – bilander he had said.

"What does he want, why is he coming for us? I thought nobody would attack, you being the fearsome Captain you say you are?"

Emma tilted her head to the side without turning toward him, her eyes landing at the level of his jaw; it clenched as he spoke carefully, eyes glaring at the enemy ship. "Blackbeard is not just another corsair. He hates me. He wants my head on a plate and preferably my ship sunk to the bottom of the bloody sea."

Narrowing her eyes, Emma's hand tightened on the hilt of her sword, and she almost lost her stance when a canon ball hit the ship abruptly, Hook's attachment on her waist being the only thing helping her keep her feet grounded to the deck, his hand still holding the wheel of the Jolly Roger. "I'm telling you there is no running away for us. We will fight." His breath was brushing against her cheek, fanning her skin and generating goose bumps on her forehead; ridiculous idea when the rain was soaking her to the bones, her hair uncomfortably sticking to her skin, his own hair no better. She couldn't stop her eyes from drifting from his eyes to his lips, which he was – of course, to add to the show - licking with a grin, before giving up all smugness.

"Be ready to fight, sharpen your blades, mates! Men to the cannons and fire, now, I shan't see any mercy given to this man. We shall die before he takes the Jolly Roger."

There were exclamations coming from the crew, men hasting to start the fight, blades shining in the darkness of the day, the cold wind slamming against Emma's cheeks; she saw anticipation but also excitement in the eyes of those who were ready to give their lives for their Captain. She raised her own sword, about to go down when she got stopped by Hook's hand on her shoulder.

"Shall I suggest you stay with me?"

"It won't get pretty no matter where I stand, your side is probably the last place I should stay if I want to save my life, plus, don't try to play protective of me, it doesn't suit you." Emma said, arching a brow before starting to go down.

"Emma."

She turned around to face him, the smile on his face indecent at such a critical moment.

"Try not to get killed, I'm not done with you yet."

**xxxxx**

"What is the Captain's bitch doing fighting among sailors, ain't he doin' his job and keeping you sated, so you don't have to g't yourself a real man?" The disgusting pirate spit at her face as their blades clashed together in a vacuum that pained the ears, his black teeth and empty holes showing when he smiled in a wicked way, his tongue disgustingly tracing his lips. Their swords kept clattering together in a terrible clang, blades sharp and deadly meeting again and again. Her moves were clever and fast but he was stronger than she was and would quickly get the upper hand if she didn't end this fight rapidly.

Emma wiggled her sword out of the way and slammed into him with all her strength, agile on her feet as she took a step back when he tried to charge, avoiding it at the last moment and kicking him in the arse so he fell on his nose.

She laughed, proud of herself, the tip of her sword placed right under his chin, "Give yourself up now. I'm no whore and I'm not a brute either."

But someone from behind her decided otherwise and pushed her elbow forward so the sword slid though the man laying at her feet, killing him in an awful gulp for last word, his eyes wide as he coughed blood. Nauseated, as the blood tainted her boots despite the rain, Emma turned around to find one of the sailors from the Jolly Roger, a roguish smirk cracking up his face, face by the way completely covered with blood that didn't seem to be his.

Emma felt sick. She pushed him off and went for another fight, trying to withstand the attack as best as she could, washing the blood on her hands with some more; the whole ship that had seemed a new haven of peace a few days ago was now a nightmare, men screaming on its deck, trips and guts spilt on the wooden planks. The two ships were rocking against each other, bumping into the other and it was a miracle the sails had not been torn apart yet, pirates flying in the air suspended to a cord, some of them falling in the sea when they were not thrown over-board during the fight. Scanning the battlefield, she tried to find Hook, her eyes tingling with the rain, strands of her hair slapping her cheeks whenever she turned her head too abruptly. She finally spotted him on the upper deck, locked in a furious fight with a man who Emma understood to be Blackbeard, though he was not worth the nickname, his beard more greyish than black.

Hook seemed to have the upper hand, he was quick, the coat he wore billowing around him and though one could have thought it would slow him down, he seemed to be just as agile as he would be without it, if not even more so, the sound of the leather zipping with the wind giving him quite the impressive look. He pushed Blackbeard, kicking him in the ribs so he ended on the wheel, before the older pirate shifted to the side, avoiding the blade and the hook.

"Hey Princess!" Someone she would recognize later on to be Lancelot, called from behind, giving her just enough time to duck and avoid a mortal blow, but she still received a cut at the side. Gritting her teeth together, Emma groaned and shoved the attacker to taste the wood of the mast before she shot her elbow at him, breaking his nose, the action making him bend over before she urged her knee up, a few teeth he had left flying in the air. Closing her eyes and murmuring a few comforting words to herself, Emma shoved her sword into the man's belly and prayed for a quick death.

"Arghhhhhhh!"

The voice was familiar this time, she recognized it and her heart jumped out of her chest when her eyes landed on Graham, slammed against the doorframe of the cabins, a knife getting shoved into his side by a pirate who enjoyed it.

"No!"

Running as fast as she could, jumping above dying men, Emma used the knife hidden in her boot to slit the pirate's throat, blood covering both Graham and her, and she let the lifeless body fall at her feet, reaching for Graham who had followed his attacker. "No no no no." Emma cried, holding him and cradling him to her chest, "You have to open your eyes, Graham, don't close your eyes."

"Graham!"

She yelled loudly, trying to seek help but everyone around her was busy fighting and it was impossible to tell who was winning, if Hook was going to be able to push the attack off his own ship. It didn't matter now because she held Graham against her, trying to force him to keep his eyes wide open, her hand pressed against his wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Princess Emma." Lancelot got rid of his opponent before joining her on the ground, checking Graham's wound, his eyes searching Emma's as his face broke into something Emma refused to accept. He couldn't die. No he couldn't, not him, not Graham, not now.

"We need to get him out of there."

The tall and stout man took Graham in his arms, about to carry him back to the cabins, when stepping away, Emma's arms got caught into a tight grip, the smell of dead body and unwashed sailor violating her nostrils. She tried to tug, jerk away from the man's hold, but he laughed harder. "Wishing to leave me that soon ma'am?"

"Leave her!" Lancelot groaned but earned nothing but a gigantesque laugh that turned Emma's blood cold as he breathed her in, his nose buried in her hair.

"Here's the deal, Jones, you will let me go, me and my crew, unharmed and without trying anything to follow us. You kill me and the lovely blonde whore you seem to have a weakness for goes down with me, entwined bodies like lovers, but isn't that how you love 'em; dead and lifeless, cold and buried into the mistress blue? Amirite, Jones?"

Emma gritted her teeth together when she saw Hook's stoic posture at the old pirate's words, even though the way his jaw clenched betrayed his emotions; his eyes landed on her for a while and she felt the grip tightened painfully around her wrist, the pirate lifting her imprisoned hands higher behind her back, the twisting of her muscles and joints tearing a moan out of her. She loathed being put in this situation, where she was used as a way to pressure Hook, and insulted during the whole process. They could not lose time in parleys and other things, Graham's face was more than ashen now, Lancelot's hand on his wound trying to stop the bleeding but he needed to get stitched up immediately if he did not want to die. Emma's eyes held Hook's for a bare second before he turned to the crew, nodding at them as he lowered his own sword away from Blackbeard's heart.

"This is how a man wins, Jones, you better learn the lesson."

Blackbeard went down to the lower deck, his whole person emitting pride and arrogance, his eyes scanning Emma's body in a manner that made her roll her eyes, before she brought her attention to him and held her chin up, pride and arrogance matching his. He came to her level and two fingers clasped around her chin so he could examine her better, his putrid breath fanning her skin when he exhaled.

"It's a shiny and pretty thing you got here." His hand, blackened and with dirt under his nails wrapped around her and he pulled her roughly against him, his tough chest encountered her, and his fingers traveled quickly up and down her side before he took a step back; she saw from the corner of her eyes that Hook had rose his sword again and pressed it to his spine.

"I agreed to let you go unharmed, don't make me rethink my words and cut off those old balls of yours, hands off the lady, show some manners. I do not believe that you want to find out the pros and cons of having only one hand." Hook's thick accent boomed in the air and Blackbeard's hands were off her body, and Emma was finally able to take a deep breath without getting poisoned by the exhalations of the rough pirate.

"This isn't the last time you and I meet, my pretty."

With a last nod in her direction, Blackbeard escaped the ship followed by his men who hailed Hook's crew with insults and other words Emma would rather not get the translation of.

In a matter of minutes the ship was clear of enemies and if it hadn't been for the complaints of the wounded sailors on deck, the attack of Blackbeard would have seemed like a dream. Attention back to Graham, both Lancelot and Hook went to the cabins, Emma following them in a haste, her hand on her own wound at her waist, though she decided to pull her cloak over it so she didn't bring any attention to it.

"Lay him out and keep adding pressure to the wound! Smee!" Hook screamed for his sailor who showed up out of nowhere, Emma feeling slightly relieved that the man, tiny and not looking like a good fighter was in a good shape, not hurt or anything, "Go get Victor right now." He ordered before they were left just the four of them, Emma kneeling in front of the bed, her hand reaching for Graham's as she tried to soothe his pain with kind words, her free hand brushing the curls off his too hot forehead.

"You're going to be okay."

"We can't say that for sure, lass, not until Victor has had a look at him."

Emma shot him a dark look, praying for his silence; what the hell was he thinking saying such words out loud in front of a wounded man who probably thought he was dying?

"The Captain is right, Emma," Lancelot intervened to calm her obviously angry demeanor, "There's more danger to add-"

"What happened?"

The physician finally showed up, his nose in the air as he wiped his bloody hands with a towel, Emma surprised to see he was carrying a big sword at his side and that he seemed to have fought as well during the attack; he pushed her to the side without any ceremony so he could get a better look at Graham. "Stitches will be needed for sure, someone bring me my bag and boil some water."

Graham tried to keep his eyes opened, licking his dry lips while Victor didn't even have the decency to give him one look, nor one word of comfort. "This will probably hurt, I don't have medicine to help ease the pain."

"Here, have my rum." The Captain handed his flask to his Second Mate who passed it to Victor, Graham drinking a sip before coughing from the harshness of the alcohol. "Easy there, mate, it's quite the pricy rum you have here. Show some respect." Hook tried to joke but it fell flat in the room that now smelled like rum, sweat and blood.

"My advice for you is to leave before this gets bloody; I will have to stitch from the inside to make sure he's not bleeding internally to a certain death."

It took Emma a few seconds to understand that Victor's words were directed to her but she still stood where she was, her nails digging into her palms painfully when she clenched her hands into fists, "I'm not leaving him alone."

"I would hardly consider my presence in this room as leaving him alone, I would like to do my job here properly and without any possible trouble."

"I'm staying with him." She repeated more firmly before Hook's hand clasped around her elbow to drag her outside against her will, Lancelot of course, ignoring her crying for help, the door closing behind them.

"Jesus Christ! You can't do this!"

Emma shoved Hook in the chest as hard as she could, gritting her teeth together as she winced, the wound at her waist almost making her cry – almost; she would not give those men the pleasure to hear her in pain. She braced herself and stood as straight as she could, considering her current state, but Hook's eyes were already on her side.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "When were you going to tell me you got wounded during a fight? Before or after you passed out on the floor at my feet?"

"That is none of your business."

They stared at each other for a while, judging and taking measure of each other before he cracked a laugh, a laugh that irritated her more than she could tell.

He turned on his heels , half stopping and offering her his hook, a challenge in his eyes; whether she would take it or not was however not the question at the moment. How dared he make a joke or challenge of that situation that was more than serious with a man's life on the line.

"I'm not going to let you wander around the Jolly, bleeding on the planks; my sailors won't appreciate having to wash behind you."

She sighted.

"You're a pain in the ass." She whistled between greeted teeth, a hand placed on her side, she took a step forward and went ahead, opening the door of his cabins with as much force as the wound allowed her to. She was pissed at him, and Emma had all the intention to make sure he got that right.

The door closed behind him and the fragrance of leather, rum and something just manly invaded her and hit her right in the face when she entered, the room clashing with the one where they had had dinner all of them together, not so long ago as it was yesterday, Graham on his feet and alright. One day after that, he was dying, half of the crew was in a bad shape and Emma was no better.

"On the desk, Swan, and I will examine that wound of yours."

"Pardon?"

Emma blinked, what did he just say?

"I said, would you please do me the honor of sitting on top of my modest desk and letting me take a look at your wound, I thought you'd rather have me do it in the privacy of my cabins than in front of the whole crew, sailors who didn't have a proper l-"

"Enough." She raised her hands in the air to protest, "I got the idea, alright."

With her foot she kicked a chair out of the way and sat on top of the desk, gripping the edge of it, all of a sudden anxious about being there while he was looking for God knew what in a box next to his bed.

She swallowed tickly, trying to picture things that might have happened in this room. Growing up alone and with almost no comrade, she had got used to making up her own stories out of nothing, an object, a simple sketch she had made for her father or Joanna. She would create all kinds of adventures and imagine herself a mariner upon the seas seeking treasure.

Fate was probably laughing at her face right now.

"I have clean bandages, and a few needles, we will try to make sure it doesn't get affected."

"Wait, you plan on doing this yourself? Don't you want to wait for the actual doctor?"

"I thought you wanted him to take care of Graham?" Hook asked her and Emma had to give him the point as he took a further step to set his satchel next to her hip. "I can take a look at it; I patched more wounds than I possess fingers, which I grant you, is not reassuring but let's add the toes to that and just let me take a look. Shirt up, Swan."

Her eyes held his for a while; she debated whether or not she should run away from the room rather than let him have an eyeful of her skin.

A hand twisted around the lapel of her coat and she eased it off her shoulders, before lifting the hem of her shirt just enough for him to look at the wound. He bent on one knee, standing right next to her left leg, so close she could feel his breath on her skin, and if he noticed the goose-bumps sparkling on her whole body he didn't say a thing. Emma was grateful for that; it seemed that despise all, Hook could indeed be a gentleman when a woman was presently half-bare in front of him.

"Not deep enough to be mortal you will be glad to know, but alas, deep enough to need stitches. Sorry, Swan."

She gazed toward the satchel at her side while he unfolded the leather sides of it, revealing to her scared eyes needles that didn't seem to be sharp enough to go through the skin. She withdrew without even noticing, and Hook's hand went to her knee where he squeezed gently.

"I will try my best to go as fast as I can. It needs to be done; we can afford you walking around with an open wound, so I will take the best needle possible to do this. Here, have a little bit of rum." He handed her the bottle of rum that was sitting on top of his desk.

"Isn't alcohol something one should rather avoid in such cases? Doesn't it make- doesn't it make the blood more fluid?"

Her voice was shaking ridiculously as she tried to lift a pair of serene eyes to him, now fully standing up on his feet, his hand on her shoulder trying to help her relax before he caught a chair with the curve of his hook and brought it closer, sitting down on it.

"I guess it's better for you to drink and relax than to stress out and then pass out. We can handle this just fine; I won't let anything happen to you."

A bitter laugh escaped her and she quickly came to regret it when it stretched the mixture of blood and skin coiled together. Her fingers closed around the bottle and she drank deeply, the burn of the alcohol welcomed, a few tears sparkled at the corner of her eyes, but she made her best to swallow them back with the rum descending in her throat.

"I would have offered you some but I figured out it was probably for the best to have my nurse sober or at least as sober as a pirate of your kind can be." She said after wimping her mouth, the grin on Hook's face quite the reward when gestured to her to lay down on the table, the wound right at the level of his eyes. Rising again he went to the other side of the room and brought a candle to the table.

"Just don't faint on me, Swan, I'm the kind of nurse who hates to have to slap their patients."

Emma tried not to laugh. The alcohol was making her less guarded, the tiredness of the day, the sore muscles of her arms, legs and back and the anxiousness she felt for her friend in the next room didn't help much. She secured her shirt under her back and let him start his work.

"Please talk to me."

The waves of the ocean rocked against the ship a little bit too harshly and Emma bit her lip; it didn't bring her any kind of consolation or solace, and she had nothing to hold onto. Hook seemed to be frozen in his task, passing the needle under a generous amount of alcohol, the needle between his lips for a moment just so he could run the wire though the hole.

"I only have one hand to patch you up, Swan, if I could I would hold yours with my other one, alas I have quite another sharp appendage for the second hand."

Her cheek pressed against the hard wood, and she tried to seek his eyes but he kept them on her waist.

"You think this is funny, but it's really not." Out of nowhere she had decided to lower her voice, probably because of the current intimacy they were sharing and how they were now only lit by the flame of the candle, and how at this precise moment she was aware of his proximity. He was indeed quite the handsome man; that she had had the chance to see a while ago during their dance, but now that she had all the time to examine every detail of him, she noticed all those little spots, marks and scars that decorated his face.

"I saw you fight."

"Have you now? Weren't you supposed to be in a deadly fight with your foe?"

She couldn't help the mocking tone in her voice. If it bothered him, it didn't show; he grinned slightly as he started working.

Do not think. Do not think, focus on him.

"He's not actually my foe, he believes me to be his, but as far as I'm concerned he's just another pirate on the seas trying to steal from me." He arched a brow and the needle went in, the wire going through her skin and making her want to jerk away.

"Why does he think that?"

"It's rather simple; I stole a part of his crew. Those who desired to follow me just did and since then he has been dying to get his revenge, I have humiliated him or so he says."

"Why steal his crew? Weren't you already more than furnished back then?"

Her question was sincere, and she was surprised to be interested in the answer, her fingers lingering not far away from the cold steel of his hook, resting next to her hip.

"He was-" The needle didn't go through the skin as smoothly as they had both hoped and it brought tears to Emma's eyes, the pain white and sharp, cutting the breath out of her lungs, Hook using his sharp appendage to keep her still on the desk. "Hold onto it if you need to, don't be afraid to squeeze hard, it won't hurt."

"That ain't funny." She gasped, but still reached for the hook and held tight.

"Be a good girl and hold on, it's almost done." He leaned away and then went back to it, the frown between his brows quite endearing, she thought. A few scars could be found on his face, she had of course noticed the one decorating his left cheek, but she had never noticed the one above his eyebrow, nor the one under his jaw, something that in other circumstances should have been a mortal blow.

He cut her thoughts by pursuing his tale. "I knew a lad, a brave lad of one town I used to visit, son of the barmaid that held the place I used to pass by when I needed a good old ale. H was a nice boy, looked at the sea with too much interest according to his mom, and I saw that in his eyes, that spark that called for the sea and begged for more of it, everyone on this ship has it, you can't escape it, you can't not have it if you're a sailor. Actually, he had the same spark in his eyes than you do, love." Hook briefly stared back at her, his eyes soft and his expression leaving her breathless for a moment, though it might have been the pain. "Jimmy asked me to take him aboard and I said no, lad was too young, barely thirteen and his mom would have had my throat cut in my sleep if I had dared to do so. He was mad when I refused but I told him later once he is grown up enough to have a proper beard. But one day I came back to the bar and I found out the boy had left with Blackbeard's ship, hoping he would be a pirate. His mother was sobbing and begged me to find him."

He made a pause, choosing his words carefully, the lines of his face tensing before he started talking again. "Blackbeard isn't exactly well known for his kindness toward his crew. He's a cruel man, and he split more guts on his desk than a thousand ships reunited, and the legend says his boots are reddened by the blood. Of course, it's just a rumor; the bastard spread it himself. You saw his boots; he's just a dirty pirate like the rest of us."

"What happened to Jimmy?" She didn't exactly want to talk about Blackbeard now, she didn't want to think of his fingers palming her like a piece of meat, nor did she want to remember the awful smell of his breath.

"When I finally caught Blackbeard's ship I found out that he had hung the boy by the feet and slit his guts open, an example for the young folks, he had explained to the crew; the boy hadn't been able to perform the task he had been ordered, and he had complained about the lack of food, so Blackbeard made an example out of him."

Emma's body went rigid, he had just been thirteen she thought, only thirteen of age and he had been killed for an empty stomach and a tired bed. She looked up for the ceiling and tried to swallow the lump in her throat, fingers twisting around the sharpness of the hook, making her almost cut herself in the process.

"So I took revenge for good measure; I freed the men who desired freedom from that monster and offered them a place on my ship. I set them free and humiliated Blackbeard on his own planks. I may be a pirate but these men aboard are free to go, they are their own masters, they are under my commandment because they decided so, I show no mercy toward cowards and those who do not respect my law, but none of them are my prisoners. "

In a last breath, he added then, "And Jimmy had just been a kid."

He finished patching her up in silence, the only sound of the wax falling onto the desk and the flame wiggling to an invisible fire. Their breaths were setting a rhythm in the room, and he finished his work and stood up, getting his hook back.

"All patched up. Now sit up I will put a bandage around you, just to make sure the wound stays clean and proper. I asked Smee to boil some rags, they should be dry by now." He rubbed his eyes and stretched his legs a little, walking around the room before stopping in front of the window with the view on the back of the ship. Impressive and majestic, she had to say. "Victor can come back later on and check on this if you want."

"I trust you to do a good job."

"Trust." He exhaled in a laugh, turning around to face her, letting the coat fall onto his bed. "It's surely better that way I guess. Nobody needs to know you're wounded; some men aboard this ship could try to take advantage of your current state."

Her mouth dropped and she looked startled by his words, clashing with what he had just said a moment ago. "But you said-"

"I know what I said, those men are free and not my prisoners, but they are still men, and alas, men who went without women for too long tend to let their genital parts take over their brains; they are free but no saints, make sure to remember that."

"Does that include you?" She raised a brow and dropped her feet to the floor, her eyes trying not to drift to the wound; she might have gone without fainting, but touching or seeing it would make it worse and all the more real. She would prefer for her dignity not to fall at his feet like one of those ridiculous ladies who used to live at the court.

"I would like to believe that I'm like no other."

"So presumptuous of you."

"Wouldn't you be disappointed if I wasn't, love?"

She gave him a soft smile, work of the alcohol and the loose nerves of course. "Yeah, I guess I would."

Smee entered the room and put an end to their banter for a brief second, setting the clean and not quite white rags down, though Emma could notice the attempt at bleaching them, another smile making its way to her lips as she imagined Smee being the laundry lady, trying to clean all those dirty and smelly pirate clothes. He left without a word, not even looking at Emma.

"He's trying to be a gentleman and not to look at a woman baring skin," Hook explained to her as he came close so he stood in front of her knees, taking a wrap of the rags. "I will need your help. My mouth is skilled and so are my fingers but I will need your graceful help, love, there's so much a man can do."

And from a heartfelt moment they were back to the innuendoes; it was good to have them back because in a way, it made It easier for her.

Easier for what though, she didn't know, nor did she want to wonder more on the subject.

"I could have someone called to do it."

The uncertainty in his voice touched her; for the first time since she met him, there was vulnerability crawling under his skin and she got the impression of looking at another man, a different version of the pirate known as a fearsome Captain showing no mercy to those who had the unfortunate fate to cross his path. It happened because of the story he had just told her about Jimmy, and the fairness he showed to his men and the fact that he had no pity for those who could easily be qualified as monsters, and also, because of this concern and his uncertainty.

He thought he couldn't do it.

For a brief instant, he seemed to have lost years and she got the ghostly feeling of seeing a younger man standing in front of her, the grayish rag torn between his fingers.

"I trust you with this. I will help you. Lancelot could be my Godfather for all I know, and I don't exactly want Smee to have an eyeful."

The smile he gave her was devastating, chasing the ghost of a younger Hook for his devilish self, full of confidence and transpiring innuendoes back full force. "Because you have no problem with me enjoying the show? Don't mistake m words, Swan, I'm not complaining, not at all."

"You already saw enough to give you something to keep your warm tonight. Let's just finish this, I would rather be only the main character of one pirate's dream than several." She breathlessly tried to play the smartass, ignoring the way her skin felt at the moment.

"And what a pirate you've chosen, love, I'm the one with the wildest imagination." Leaving the rags on her lap, his hand rose to the side of her face to play with a few curls, before she brought it back down, electricity sparkling as they touched.

"I'm very well aware of that and I would like to finish this quickly. It's getting quite chill here and no-" She cut him off raising a finger up as if she were talking to a child, "do not even say what I think you're about to say about sharing heat or I swear to God, you will need Smee to patch you up."

"Oh Swan, you have no idea how I enjoy this fire in you, and God, you threatening my man parts is one of the-"

She shoved him in the chest, making him chuckle even more to her regrets. He finally resigned to go back to his task, and after a few minutes of slightly struggling to find a way to safely and painlessly bandage her, he wrapped the rags around her waist with great care, his arm bringing her closer to him, her chest and his meeting and she tried hard not to look up, her hand sneaking behind to get the end of the rag and giving it back to him, and they did this for a few rounds, until the rag was properly set around her waist, Hook finally taking a step back to admire his work. "Don't we make a good team?"

"Don't let it go to your head." She jumped off the desk and made a quick work of her outfit, putting back on the cloak, relieved to feel its comfortable weight back on her shoulders as it embraced her with a more than welcomed heat. The silence had fallen between them, awkward this time, a first for them; it had never been this way before, the weight of words being said probably stifling the air slightly. A wave or remorse washed over Emma, for having selfishly forgotten about the dying in the next room, "Is he going to be okay?" She asked Hook, her teeth letting go of her bottom lip with a plop.

Hook had just gathered the bottle he had given her a while ago before he sat back onto the bed, letting himself fall heavily on it, reaching for more rags on the edge of the bed, and pouring a generous amount of alcohol on it. "I do pray Calypso will show him mercy tonight; Victor is a good man and really good at what he does; he is in good hands."

"I hope you're saying the truth." Emma looked at the library at the corner of the room, her hand going to her side to check the bandage. "Thank you for what you did."

"You're welcome, love." Without looking at her, he inspected the rags before placing it carefully on his chest, under the leather jacket he was wearing. He tried not to wince, a sight that for half a second reassured Emma about her own ability to bear pain, before she chastised herself for thinking in such a way. For a man who had lost a hand, it was a ridiculous thought to think that he couldn't handle the touch of alcohol against open wounds.

"Do you wa-" She started to say but he cut her off, not even looking at her.

"No, thank you for the offer but I will take care of myself just fine, you should probably regain your own cabin and check on Graham, having you by his side should help him recover."

Nodding, she had after all not much to say to that; she did indeed crave to run away from this room, Graham's safety being the main reason, she needed to check on him just so she could be reassured he would survive the night. She didn't see any more reasons to stay, not that she wanted to, so she nodded once more and took her leave, closing the door behind her, leaving the captain to his own tending.

As she went to her cabin, she tried to detach herself from the bitter taste that had invaded her mouth for not doing for Hook what he had spent more than an hour doing for her.

When she finally passed the door of the cabin she and Graham shared, Emma was happy to find him sleeping, Lancelot was in a corner of the room sitting on the only seat one could find in such a small space, and with a sign of the head, she showed him the door and thanked him in silence for staying with Graham.

Smiles exchanged and he left, leaving her alone with Graham, his face peaceful despite being covered with a layer of sweat from the tiredness and the pain of the operations made on him to get him back on his feet. Careful not to wake him up, Emma left her cloak on and laid next to him, resting on her good side, her hand finding his before she closed her eyes, praying that tonight sleep would find her.


	6. Hold on tight in the middle of the storm

The night had cast its shadow heavily on the ship, a strange mistress they had all gotten accustomed to by now, had dropped her arms around the Jolly Roger; it was only for the lanterns hung on the cordage of the ship that the sailors saw their surroundings. He had spent the whole night on the deck, his shoulders were tense with a long day's work; he was not one to complain, but he decided it was time to retire. Hook gave orders to Mr. Smee and Lancelot, respectively second and first mate.

Hook knew well enough not to drop his guard at night, the gloomy night propitious to whispered words under the coat, sailors discussing the comfort their Captain could afford while some of them were made to sleep upon the deck.

The Jolly Roger had never known any kind of mutiny, no one had dared to put opposition to the fearsome Captain Hook, one had tried to fight him, it had ended with his sword cutting him open, guts spilling on the deck.

Yet, he knew better than not to look behind him, as amicable and friendly as their sailors showed to be with him; it could also hide other motives, his favors were not easily bought. Some had tried and ended up getting the most ungrateful chores because he didn't like to be flattered; no man obtained anything from him by stroking his ego.

Eyeing the crew one last time, he retired to his cabins, closing the door behind him. He went to the bar, little desk made of wood he used to store wine and other liquors, some of them expensive, treasures he had gathered during the years. Some ships of the Royal Navy had some fine wines, reserved for the Captains. It was thrilling to strip down of their luxurious goods those captains and men not capable to fight their own battles, but sent their crews to a certain death.

Many things could be said of the Captain of the Jolly Roger, but when they attacked another ship, he fought side by side with his men.

He settled for a fine rum, one of his favorites that was dangerously close to being gone. His eyes drifted to the calendar he kept updated – one of the perils on the seas was to lose notion of time.

Milah had died a year ago, this exact day but it felt as if it had been yesterday.

He had lost his hand.

He had lost his heart.

That day, it was hers and his heart that Rumpelstiltskin had crushed in the curl of his fingers.

He hadn't got his hand and hook on the man who had crushed her heart yet . Hook sat behind his desk, his fingers playing with one of the gems he had obtained during a boarding, he left it on top of the desk, playing with it sometimes, his musing focused on that stone, roughly shaped. It was the remains of a treasure he had conquered a few years ago. The ship was from King George's kingdom and it had fallen under the Jolly Roger's shadow, sinking down to the bottom of the sea, where it rightfully belonged.

It didn't matter how many years it had been, until he could get his revenge, he would make sure his name reached the court and made the King shake in his boots. The gleam of the ruby in his palm was appealing, it would have, at a certain time of his life, flattered his ego, excited him for adventures. But seeing it now, he felt bitter, knowing those served to pay wars that were truly paid with the blood of men fighting for a selfish King. He saw the gleam of his brother's heart reflected in the gem, he saw the fire of life taken from his brother, whose heart had been too good, too naïve in a way (no matter how Liam had insisted that his little brother was the one to carry his sword too high with his heart at the point of it) he was the one who had fallen out of his faith in a King who had proved untrustworthy of it.

A knock on the door forced him out of his own castle made of ghosts. With a groan, he told them to enter, he tried to compose himself, remembering not to delve onto his emotions and let his judgment be clouded with his demeanor. Hook doubted it was the Princess; she wouldn't come back after the words they had exchanged, and it was probably better this way, not having to deal with whatever strange impression laid between them, like an imperceptible gap that neither of them dared to cross.

"Captain." Lancelot nodded to beckon him, taking the seat in front of Hook when the Captain offered it to him with a motion of the hand. "I've come for the report of the day."

Hook didn't answer, letting the man unwind his explanation; he got up on his feet and reached for two glasses. Most of the time, when drinking alone, Hook didn't even bother with a glass, drinking from the gullet. He poured a generous amount in his and was about to do the same for his first mate when Lancelot stopped him, shaking his head.

"I would rather stay sober while I discuss things with you."

"Afraid you can't hold your rum with me?" Hook laughed bitter-sweetly, sitting down with a heavy sound, the leather cracking; he hadn't bothered to take off his coat, the chill of the winter and the sea wind were not to take slightly, his crew had been given orders to stay bellow deck, where they were sheltered from the cold wind.

"Graham is going to die."

Hook gulped his rum hastily, the alcohol not hash enough for him. "Aye."

"Victor is working below deck with the wounded ones, there were three of them who passed away. Scott, Kelly and Bones. They were wounded pretty badly; Kelly had his guts out of himself."

"We will have to stop at the closest port and get some sailors there."

"Do you really think it's wise?"

Hook arched a brow, his glass set on the table between instruments such as a compass and a spyglass, his fingers closing around the hook and twisting it until he heard a click, taking it off and soundly setting it on the table. He saw the way his sailor tried to lean back, pressing his back against the seat, uncomfortable with the handless arm on the table and the appendage that was detached from the arm, shocked by its rudeness.

"We will take what we need, welcome aboard the sailors who want to come. We will reach the Kingdom of Prince Phillip and Princess Aurora in a few days. We shall then take charge of getting our crew refilled properly; I will not get involved in a risky mission with a less than complete crew. We cannot go on high seas without a complete crew."

"Do you have an idea where this will take us?" Lancelot asked, brows frowned in doubt, fingering the glass in front of him, though he never once made a move to lift it to his lips.

"Doubting your Captain?"

"You know I have in you a faith that is unshaken, I would die for you." He spoke with a fervor that was pleasing for sure, but that had Hook pouring himself another drink.

"Don't you forget it," he grinned over the glass, sipping the alcohol, "I have an idea but nothing certain, I will share details with you when my suspicions get confirmed or not."

"You think we've been betrayed?"

"How perceptive of you, Lancelot, sometimes I forget it and I shall not forget it, a man is in danger when he doesn't know better." They both chuckled before Hook continued, "I have my suspicions over some of the crew being not as loyal as they say they are."

"Tell me the names and I shall find out more about them." Lancelot said, fingers clenching over the edges of the desk, his other hand resting on the tilt of his sword.

"If I give you names, you will follow those and your judgment will be biased, I want you to keep an eye on the whole crew, keep your eyes open and your ears everywhere." Hook tilted his head to the side, "I want you to confirm my doubts, not to let your judgment be biased."

"But do I keep an eye on the Princess, you know I do want to make sure she is safe-"

"I will stop you right there." Hook leaned against the deck, a grin curling on his face, "You asked me if you could be the Princess's shadow, you got your wish, but alas, Swan is no fool, she spotted you from far away and she knows you're following her. I think Swan can handle herself, you may keep an eye on her, but she can handle any man, believe me. Plus, I will make sure she is safe myself."

"There's more than a simple Captain's interest, isn't it? You actually fancy her." Lancelot big white smile – a rarity on a ship where half of the crew (and that scale was quite vulgar) had black teeth, when teeth they had still.

"I would not have my first mate imply such sulfurous things about a Princess." Hook arranged his collar, lifting the lapels, "She's royalty. I'm a gentleman."

Lancelot got on his feet, nodding with a little laugh he allowed himself to have, knowing his Captain did share the irony and humor. But his smile disappeared to leave room to a far more morbid expression, his eyes narrowed at Hook. "She doesn't come from a happy kingdom; don't misjudge her, her title doesn't describe her."

Hook's features hardened, his demeanor turned from something lighter to something closer to anger, he walked toward Lancelot, high on his heels, "I do not get told what to do, as much as I know your advices come from a good place, I perfectly know who I am addressing when I talk to her highness. You might try to protect her on the ship, but don't forget where your loyalty lays, you broke a vow before, don't make it a habit. I know who the princess is, probably better than you convinced yourself you do. She is not her mother."

"With all my respect, Captain, you don't know the Queen Snow White." Lancelot lowered his eyes as he waited for the blow to come. Blowing through his nose, his fist at his side clenching with anger, Hook spoke with a calm and even voice, "I do not, but remember neither do you know Princess Emma. Don't let your judgment be altered by whatever feelings you might have had for your feu Queen." With that, Hook turned his back and walked to the shelves and the little cabinet he had on the side of his cabin, waiting for the sailor to leave.

"She's not dead."

"I guess your definition of death differs from mine, Lancelot, but it's not one I care to discuss with you. You shall leave now."

Lancelot gone, Hook closed his fist around the ruby, his hand burning with the desire to reach for someone who was no more. He walked to his closet and opened it with more force than needed. There were several woman's outfits, made of leather, he reached for the box hidden by heavy leather-made cloaks. He sat on the end of his bed, opening the box with great care, almost religiously, his fingers tracing the exterior of the box made of precious wood. He had ordered it at a port when they had stopped to get supplies, asking for the best wood the man could find. It was meant to be a present for Milah, and she had never seen it. Dead before the work had been finished.

The box hid several items he considered the most precious, a lock of hair, black and curly, one he would hold between two fingers trying to call for a ghost that never came, a necklace she had loved and cherished.

Hook settled the ruby among the other possession, relishing the gem he had never gotten the chance to turn into a ring for Milah.

They didn't have enough time.

They didn't have a chance to fix anything; death had knocked on the door, looking like a monster with no heart.

With a shake of the head, he replaced the box where it had been found.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"I'm afraid he won't last past tomorrow, he has two days to live at best." Victor told him over a glass of expensive whisky found on coming from a faraway kingdom, part of an important treasure, an alcohol that though expensive, Hook despised to the satisfaction of his physician, who was on the contrary, a big fan of it.

Hook's hand had been tapping on the desk of his cabin, fingers playing with a coin, the piece of gold rolling between his knuckles, as the hook followed the lines of the map. He had other things to worry about than the actual health of the Huntsman. Smee and some other preoccupied sailors had reported to him that the ship had suffered some major damages done during the attack. Both cannons and Blackbeard's men had destroyed parts of the ship, and as hard to sink as the Jolly Roger was, they needed to set shore as soon as it was possible if they didn't want to risk a catastrophe.

His mind was still somewhere else though, and it had nothing to do with the wound on his chest stinging slightly under the rub of the leather against the slide of his skin, but rather the weird feeling he had about the whole situation.

On his ship could be currently found: a dying Huntsman, a dashing pirate, a crazy doctor, a fierce and loyal knight and a princess. He had also to top that a lot of concerns about his crew; some of them had expressed worries over the presence of a woman aboard the ship.

The thought had made him mad.

Free men that they were, they were not all clever and did not all possess common sense, some of them went as far as to believe that the presence of a woman would curse them all: the last woman to have walked upon the ship had died in a horrible way and cursed their captain.

Most of them, though untouched by those events, barely witnesses, still thought that by some kind of magic or malediction, would end up cursed by the very Calypso .

The Goddess was said to be jealous of any other women who dared to sail her seas, and that any men defending or bringing one on a ship would suffer terribly before the only Sea mistress shall take one's life and drown the man in her palace under the seas.

As if Calypso was the mistress to all of them, and they shouldn't dare share themselves with another, a belief that had been by all means, strengthened the day Milah died.

Hence why he was starting to get worried about the presence of Emma Swan on the Jolly Roger, if he didn't mind, even found her presence aboard to be the most pleasant he had had in a long time; he had seen how the men looked at her – both by fears and lust.

Lancelot was keeping an eye on her, displeasing her or not, he couldn't afford any man to attack her.

"I will talk to him." Hook announced out of the blue, making a sudden decision, as he rose up from his chair and went out.

Several men saluted him with a nod of the head, to which he answered by a lift of the chin, and he was about to push the door of the sick Hunstman when one of his men stopped him, shouting behind him.

"What is it Carter?"

He couldn't help but groan, pinching the bridge of his nose before he held onto his belt.

"The men and I are-" The sailor started but was cut by Hook's laughing with no humor in his voice.

"We just got out of a fight, men are dying or dead already, the ship damaged and you and the crew already have requests?" Taking a step closer, Hook hovered above the sailor with a good head of difference, a part of him enjoying the sudden fear he saw in the man's eyes. "What is it that you bloody men want?"

Carter felt embarrassed, rubbing the back of his head with shame, his eyes drawn to his feet, "I… We, we want to... You know how men are Cap'ain, we need to do what Nature made us for."

Rubbing his forehead, Hook sighted deeply, tired of having to deal with issues that were not supposed to be his. Selfish much one would say, for all he was concerned, he had a ship to rule and a supposed mission to follow and bring to term. He examined the man in front of him for a little while, taking in the dirtiness of his face that spoke for him. Carter was a sailor that had joined them when they had to stop in a port at the West of the Kingdom of King David, a few years ago, he was quite the handy man, he was also smarter than most of the men upon the deck, though Hook flattered himself by being the wisest due to his many years of life despite a dashing and handsome look he presented. Carter was also a man he didn't fully trust, he was quite the cunning man and Hook believed the man would go where the wind would take him, especially if the grass was greener somewhere else. As much as Hook had wanted Lancelot to be the headman aboard the ship, and he was by many regards his second mate, the crew didn't seem to take after their captain; their allegiance to Lancelot was one forced by the Captain. Many of them, despite the fact they had almost all travelled through the world and to different countries and provinces, had a hard time with both his ex royal title (the semantics here didn't seem to matter much to the men, he was an ex of the Royal Army and that was all they saw), but most importantly; Lancelot was a black man.

He had seen the way other would react to him, there were mostly two camps, those who saw the man for who he was: a brave sailor, an impressive and skillful swordfighter, a friend, and those who saw a traitor who didn't belong among them.

Hook had once in the past punished two sailors who had tried to attack the one he had come to consider a friend if not an equal, though he wouldn't acknowledge it out loud, for the sake of his rank.

"We need to make port soon, tell that the folk, we need to get the ship to the docks immediately, I doubt the mast will hold for much longer, if we meet a storm, we might go under, the bloody hell you and the others can do in town then, is none of my concern." He added, trying to sound more sensitive, his lips twisting in a smirk, "Tell the mates they will get their lassies if they can manage to keep their teeth until them.

With a forced bow, Carter took his leave and Hook went under deck, pushing the door of Graham's cabins; the lass was apparently still sleeping next to him, surprising when the sun was this high in the sky. But with some musing, his eyes lingering on the black circles under her eyes, she was out of her depth of course, aboard a ship and for the first time on the sea, the fight from yesterday and the worries she had had all night long for her fiancé, he felt a wave of compassion, briefly mind you, for that woman who seemed so naïve on some points and yet, once the polish scratched, seemed to be wiser and older than her looks or smiles gave away.

"Jesus." Graham stirred out of sleep, at the sight of the lack of color in his face, the whiteness sickly coloring his features, Hook understood what Victor meant: he was gravely affected and currently dying. "That is creepy, you don't look over someone sleeping."

"Who says I was looking at you."

Graham looked upon Emma at his side, lying right next to him without touching him. Both of them lowered their voices, so they didn't wake her up. "I would rather have you keep your distance from her."

"I am in no way interested in breaking your union with her." Hook answered in all honesty. And it was indeed the blatant truth, while he did enjoy the thrill of riling Graham up and the company Emma Swan could provide. His curiosity was not just a simple thrill of a prohibited flirt, nor did her title interest him, though he had enjoyed teasing her with it. There was something truly fascinating about her that had him caring, touched by her fresh curiosity. He had seen her looking at the sea with craving, with desire, something he had lost – something he had only realized looking through her eyes.

"I'm dying aren't I?"

Bringing his eyes up to his old fellow, Hook thought out his words for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip, being a sailor and being a pirate had told him one thing, never lie to a dying man, a notion that had been repeated to him by Victor. He looked at the man's side, covered with a bandage that left no room for imagination, the rags were bloodied and the smell escaping the wound was telling.

"Yes, you." His voice was not one he recognized, his elbow propped on his knees, Hook leaned closer, "I'm afraid that if we don't get on shore immediately, you will die, Victor can do much, but he's lacking medicines to properly heal you, and the men already wounded on the ship are not helping you, it's a nest of germs and you find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea."

A bitter laugh escaped Graham's lips, Hook reached for the glass on the table and poured some water, getting rid of the cork with the tip of his thumb, letting it carelessly fall on the ground. Graham tried to sit up as best as he could but with a hand on his chest, Hook pressed him back down on the bed, before handing him the glass that he took with a grimace. It was obvious he was getting weaker and weaker.

"I guess this is ironic in a way don't you think?" He told him with a rictus made of arrogance trying to cover up his actual fear. Hook however, decided it was best not to notice, leaving the man his pride and ego at least before dying. "The Huntsman dies on the sea; I guess your mistress got the best of me."

"Don't tell me you will leave without putting up a fight." Hook tried to laugh but the heart wasn't in it, he had lifted up his own flask and drank it in silence, his eyes on his old friend the whole time, judging each one of his words with extreme care, vibes of déjà vu washing over him.

"I have two requests."

"I don't take requests from mad men." Hook shook his head biting back a laugh.

"I'm not a mad man, I'm a dying man, and as a captain holding my living will in your hand and hook, you will listen. As a friend, you will respect it."

Graham gave for a moment the impression he might overcome this, the strength with which he had spoken startling Hook a little. Straightening up in his chair and looking at Emma, he sighted and nodded.

"Don't toss me over board when I die, I want to lie on land, bury me wherever you can bury my body, but please, not the sea, I wouldn't stand it-" He stopped abruptly looking up for him and Hook once again nodded, not finding the courage to object, but wanting to respect his last wishes. Plus, he was in no way sure he could keep an even voice.

"And then, please, help Emma in her quest but don't let her stay here, take her back to her father, I promised him that, I promised him she will make it safely and come back. You need to bring her back, even if she doesn't want to, she can't be out there." He paused once again to look over his shoulder at Emma's sleeping form, "She is more in danger than she thinks."

To that Hook again didn't answer, leaving that to himself to decide, while his first wish was sensible and in his right to get granted and respected, he would leave that choice for later, though keeping in a corner of his mind what Graham had said about danger. Not pushing it though, he nodded, knowing Graham well enough to know that he would not betray his king with his secrets. Add to that the fact he was convinced that Swan was likely not asleep but very much awake, currently listening to them. If Graham didn't notice, Hook had seen the way her forehead shifted under the weight of the different words spoken between the two men.

"Try to get some rest. You needn't give up now. The Jolly Roger is the fastest ship in all the realms; we might make it in time."

Graham smiled faintly, "We might."

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He counted the steps before his door opened in a violent clack, the planks of the ship vibrating through the whole room as Hook rolled his eyes. Although he predicted her arrival, he was no less annoyed.

"He's dying?!" Emma's voice echoed in the room, as she took a stand in the middle of his cabin. Hook walked around her and closed the door; he did not want his crew to assist to this conversation, he had no idea what an angry Swan sounded like, but he would like this to remain private.

"I do not appreciate having you in my cabins yelling at me. As gorgeous as you look when you're angry, don't forget we aren't alone."

"He's not dying! He can't be dying!" She kept going, turning around to face him as she stepped closer until she was nose to nose with him (though she had of course to lift her chin in order to do that).

"Listening to a private conversation is not worth of a princess is it?"

"I do not find this funny." Her index finger pointed at him as she glared at him with a hard expression, "He can't be dying."

His own expression softened, a deep sigh exhaled out of his chest as he took her by the elbow and invited her to follow him behind his desk, where maps and other instruments were settled on top. "Look at the map."

Emma's brows knitted together, she eyed him from the corner of her eyes, her gaze taking some time before landing on the displayed map. "Why would I do that?"

"I'm trying to prove a point here, look at it." He tried to coax her with a tilt of his head toward the map, one he had proudly drawn himself, "Look at it and tell me what you see."

Her hands laid on the table, Emma took a look at it like a good student would, her eyes scanning the imposing leather-made map. His eyes could not exactly leave her as she studied what he had laid in front of her, she was quite the sight he had to say, a frown between her brows and a little vein bumping on her temple. She shrugged, rubbing her nose with her arm before looking at him, her eyes not quite meeting his. "I can't read a map like you, not this one."

"You can't?"

She shook her head. Some color bloomed in her cheeks from embarrassment. "I… I didn't exactly listen to my lessons and I didn't get enough of them to learn how to read those, they are... they are not- please just explain what this has to do with Graham."

He narrowed his eyes at her, weighting his next move, not sure of what to answer to that. That left the occasion for the silence to rest on their shoulders, and he saw it, the cracks under her mask, he saw her, much like the first day he had found in her the spark, the craving for the seas and the adventures, under the candlelight of his cabin, he saw the bars keeping her behind walls, keeping her from reaching forward for adventures. So he simply showed her using his hook.

With a pedagogue tone, he began to show her how to read, it proved to be a good distraction on top of that, it helped her take her mind away and Hook would go as far as to say that she was fighting back a smile.

"We are currently among those high seas, which is the problem right now, we are not fast enough to reach the land in time. The mast was damaged during the attack, so we are not at our best speed, we lack men, healthy and able-bodied to navigate, see the land here, we are still a day and a half away from it." Moving the hook to the right, he showed her the land, tracing the lines and borders of it, watching her reaction as she took in the information, he saw it. He saw how she swallowed the truth, the lump in her throat heavy and stuck, her chest heaving painfully.

Emma gasped, taking a step back. "We won't make it in time."

"That's what the map says, even if we get full wind, we can't risk to lift the sail fully, the mast would break under the strength of it." He tried to speak as softly as he could, she had turned white as she walked backward until her knees hit the chair he usually sat on, and had she been someone else he would have said something but he let her, taking his stand in front of her, resting against the desk, arms crossed on his chest, his back to the map.

"He won't make it. Not alive." She said out loud more to herself than for him. Her eyes were stuck on the desk, observing the map as if it had done her personally wrong. Disconcerted, Hook did not know what to do, whether to reach for her or not, to talk or not – and he was not one to walk away nor to stay silent.

"It's my fault."

She breathed out of the blue, and where he had expected her to cry, she held back the tears at bay, biting her lip in a nervous gesture she had, God knew why he paid attention.

"You are not to blame in this, Emma." The use of her name, whether conscious or not, it felt right at the moment and she didn't even notice, "I think we find ourselves in a complicated situation where no one is to blame."

"I do not believe there's no one to blame." She sharply bit between her teeth, lifting a sharp glance at him, her eyes shining with tears but also with anger. "There's always somebody responsible."

"Now I won't be the one to contradict you; however, when it comes to our friend, there's no responsible but fate, he got wounded during the attack and the state of the ship makes it impossible for us to save him, neither you nor I are to blame, neither is he." His attention was caught by the pouring rain that just started slamming against the deck and the ceiling, a deep breath coming out of his mouth; the rain would only make it worse for them, as if fate or Calypso was indeed claiming the poor soul of the Huntsman. "We are going to meet an angry sea." He added.

"How do you know?" Emma asked more as a distraction than an actual interest from her part. She had decided to stand up, hands on her hips, trying to hold herself together.

"I'm older than I look, I know a thing or two about the sea, she and I are old acquaintances."

She tried to put a smile but didn't succeed, her voice quivering, "I thought that you and her would be friends by now."

"She tried to kill me more than once and now she is killing my friend."

They both froze, realizing what had been said and Hook found himself wanting to apologize for the harshness of his words, Emma's body went still and his was fighting the impulse to reach forward – the more time he spent at her side, the more he found himself feeling emotions and having reactions he hadn't had – if he did ever have them once, time had that effect on your memory, making you forget - the whole thing was messy and making him lose his feet with her. A feeling he would prefer to brush off, so he shook his head and just when he was about to add something about how that had been a harsh thing to say, Emma asked in a voice that he didn't even recognize as her own:

"What do I do?"

Again, the same feeling rushed in his veins, the intimacy of the moment startled him and the way she just allowed herself to be this vulnerable with him; they had met a few days ago, how could they be here when a few days ago, she had held a knife to his manhood, but their eyes met and he saw it.

How scared she was.

How afraid she was.

A lost girl.

She was just another orphan.

The book of Emma Swan was opening and the more he found out, the more he looked into her eyes the more he realized they were made of the same wood, written with the ink.

The call of a lost girl to another lost boy, no matter how many years had passed for him, no matter how many years she had spent locked in her tower of ivory, protected and yet left unprotected by her father the King.

He didn't know what to say, how could he? Death had never been one to show him mercy nor kindness, and less so any moment to prepare his last words to those he had lost. Death had claimed his mother all of the sudden, Liam had been gone in a heartbeat, and Milah had been killed, her last words tattooed in his mind, his own words stuck in his throat like a knot he hadn't been able to get rid of.

There was no answer to give, no solution, no miracle to offer her, neither could he move nor reach for her, there was no point, and on top of that, he wasn't convinced it was what she was looking for. Emma hadn't seemed to him to be the touching type and he respected that.

What did you do when someone you loved or cared about was going to die? What were the last words to give? A prayer or perhaps a pirate song to sing as a farewell? What could be done? What would ease her mind and help her go through? What would help Graham go in peace?

There was no mercy in death and no kindness offered to those who sailed the seas of this life.

"I don't know, lass, I really don't know." He lowered his eyes to the ground. She shifted uncomfortably at his words, as if a chill had run through her body.

"Be with him until the last moment," he added, shrugging as his attention drifted to his hook, his fingers running against the metal to reach his wrist, the phantom pain of what used to be and what could have been getting louder, coming out of nowhere, his teeth gritting together. "Talk to him if you need to, or stay silent but he will love to have someone to be near him as he slips from this world to the other."

He wished there was more he could do to help, not just for her but for Graham, but turning the problem upside down, there was no way they could get the ship to the shore before he gave his last breath.

"Can't your physician make him hold on until we reach land?" She asked, her hands quivering over her knees.

"No, he can't do more than he's already doing for him."

She prompted herself upwards, stretching the material of her corset- one that was, surprisingly not exactly made to flatter her curves, but one supposed to keep her warm, the Princess nodded, swallowed thickly, before slamming the door once again.

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Two days had passed without any signs of amelioration or recovery from Graham, Victor had expressed his pessimistic prognostic, even if the wind had turned in a favorable direction for them, the Jolly Roger couldn't use the big sail, the mast too fragile to hold under the strength of the wind. If the mast was broken, if it gave up, they would be at the mercy of the sea, and the next storm would likely put them under water. Standing behind the wheel, Victor behind him telling him about Graham's health, Hook tried to keep a neutral expression. His crew had been watching him more closely; he had felt the eyes on his back during his tour of the ship.

"Captain?" Smee's reedy voice came from the mast. "Captain!"

"What is it, Smee?"

"We are reaching land, we are reaching land!" Joy filled his voice when he shouted, the crew joining him with more shouting and excitation.

"Everyone maintain their positions!" Hook yelled back, the crew needed to focus, they were trying to get from the highest seas to those closest to land, they needed to all be extremely careful if they didn't want to encounter any rocks, they needed to be careful with their sails if they didn't want to get in trouble with the wind.

They were running against time, the sooner they got on land, the sooner Graham could be taken care of. The crew was agitated with the thought of gaining land so soon and the prospect of a good ale, and the warm arms of a woman was enough to send them abroad; their arms tired by a hard week of work were back to their tasks with more fervor than ever.

"Smee!" The Captain called, trying to cover the sound of the men working and swearing.

The poor sailor was trying to make his way through the crew – it was amazing how he managed to stay upward when he was short on legs, and that he managed to keep his balance on the sea. Some men were made for the sea. Smee climbed the stairs leading him to the upper deck, halting like he was on the verge of vomiting his lungs on the deck.

"Go fetch Princess Emma right now." Hook ordered, his grip around the wheel tightening, the sea starting to grow mad under his feet. He could feel the Jolly Roger trying to brand the ocean, the wood dilating with the effort, the whole ship cracking. His thumb stroked the tilt of the helm, as if he were speaking to the ship, to her soul, telling her to hold on.

If the sea rose into her wildest forms, if the waves started climbing the deck, Hook wouldn't manage to keep them afloat, and they could all be in peril . The Jolly Roger was a strong ship, but there was limits to what she could do, and even as an excellent captain, he wouldn't be able to maintain her out of danger.

"What is it?" Emma's head appeared down the deck; she looked terribly drained, her hair made into a braid on her shoulder.

"Come up." He shot to her and she rolled her eyes at him even though the motion lacked the usual energy she put into it; she didn't seem to quite believe it herself. He wondered if she had even eaten properly, she had refused any offers to share his dinner, claiming to desire to stay with Graham.

She was afraid he was going to die with her away.

Hook knew better than to push the matter. Yet, he had given orders to have food delivered to the both of them, even though Graham hadn't touched his plate. Victor had talked about it as the first sign of death coming.

"Are you and Princess Aurora and her husband King Phillip acquaintances?" He asked.

Swan braced her hands on her hips; she had loosened the coat, yet she seemed cold with the Northern wind blowing on them. "We are allies yes, why?"

"The kingdom we are going to board is theirs. I'm a pirate love, they will not welcome us with opened arms, but having you aboard could simplify things."

"Aren't you afraid they might fire on us the moment they see the flag?"

"That is a risk indeed." His tongue flickered over his bottom lip, he had thought about this last night, and there was no way the Jolly Roger would come to the port without being noticed.

"Couldn't you lower the flag?"

Hook chuckled, "That is underestimating the Jolly Roger's reputation love, she is well known everywhere in the seas, they will fire as soon as they see us."

"And you find this amusing?" Emma scowled, her expression incredulous. "We are going to get shot!"

Turning to the side to face her, Hook's face creased with indeed amusement and pride, "I will have you know that I am the one who have made the reputation of this ship and my reputation is what had us safe on these seas."

"And we've seen what good that did to us! Attacked by Blackbeard and Graham dying." Her voice rose an octave, "your reputation does nothing but bring us trouble."

He took a step forwards until he was invading her personal face, wanting to make sure she understood each syllable he pronounced, "So far, my reputation has you safe on this ship, those men, who are craving the tender flesh and embrace of a woman have not dared raising a finger on you because I said so, and they are smarter than to dare to go against an order."

"Your men are pigs," Emma spit with anger, " Proof that you didn't teach them better… You claim to be a gentleman, but you're at the head of a crew of pigs."

His hook caught her belt and he jerked her closer, "I am the gentleman, but I'm also the pirate. I'm their Captain, not their father, this world is made of men like them, like me, and like Graham, it's time you learn that there's no black or white, this world is made of different shades of grey. And I am not responsible for the death of your fiancé."

With two hands on his chest, Emma pushed him away, her hands burning on his skin, as the sky above them cracked in a drain of lightning and thunder, "I am not naïve enough for that Hook, back off or I will have your guts on the deck."

"You sound even more desirable when you threaten me." He laughed, disregarding the pouring rain falling on him, the cold slap of the water against his neck making him shiver, the leather sticking to his skin.

"Proof that it's been a while since you've known a woman, Hook." Emma groaned, going to the lower deck.

"Are you offering, love?"

"You would love that, wouldn't you?" Her eyes shot back at him a dark glare, she stood proudly on the deck, surrounded by his men, fierce as ever; she was weaponless, and yet, she had never looked so dangerous, so powerful. "I would rather have Smee than you."

The man in question blushed to the tip of his ears while the crew shouted at the Captain, laughing. Hook stared at her, the expression she wore proudly on her delicate features sent a wave of lust to his groin; she was desirable, he had known that since their first encounter, but like this, around men she didn't fear and with eyes shooting strikes of lightening that would made the sky jealous she looked like a Sea Goddess, her wet hair not taking away any of her beauty.

Shame to any man who dared to underestimate her.

"We will hide behind the rocks boarding the Kingdom and then lower a boat to gain the land." He said with an even voice trying to hide his aroused state, the tone he used was commanding, reminding everyone who was in charge.

As if to stress his words, the sky broke in a terrifying strike of light.

In one of her books, in her childhood, Emma remembered reading about sailors turning mad when they lost all notion of time and space, the sea an immensity that couldn't be defeated. Its horizons could drive even the wisest and sanest man into the wildest madness.

That was what she felt happening, her body didn't register the different moons passing, she hadn't seen the sun in two days now, her conversation with Hook seemed to go back to a week, she felt like time was running slow, sometimes too fast, her only clock being Graham's state degrading more and more with each hour. Shadows painted his face, his breath more shallow with every minute.

He was dying and there was no stopping this fate.

She caressed the hair off his forehead, "I'm sorry." Her lips mouthed in a mere whisper, she kissed his knuckles, torn between praying for a miracle his end to come. Graham was falling asleep more often now, his body convulsing, trying to fight for life, holding onto whatever he could.

He barely recognized her now, his sick body was becoming his sick mind, his thoughts were messy, mostly confused, he didn't remember where he was, sometimes waking up abruptly asking her for water.

He never kept food in, his stomach was too fragile and every time he would throw up, opening his wound and shedding more blood. His body wouldn't keep up much longer.

Victor, Hook's physician tried to patch him up, but Emma had seen it in his gestures that he was doing it more for her than for Graham.

He was beyond saving now.

"You can't leave." She whispered, kissing the palm of his hand - so cold, it was like life was escaping from every bit of him. "You can't leave me too."

"You should eat, missie." Smee interrupted them, bringing her a plate of food - he had taken the habit now to bring only for her and not for Graham. The fact the crew considered him already dead made her sick, and even though her stomach was screaming famine, she refused to touch the stray of food.

"The Captain is worried about your health, missie."

Emma rolled her eyes at the pseudo concern, she didn't buy it, his innuendos a few days ago had disconcerted her, for a moment she had believed him capable of showing true concern for his friend but all she saw was a cheeky pirate who didn't care. Her hand clenched around Graham's wrist - his pulse getting weaker, wrenching tears out of her eyes.

She couldn't eat; how could they expect her to when a lump was tightening her throat in an impossible knot, her friend, best friend dying because she had asked him to stay below deck.

Guilt was holding her hostage in this room, along with unsaid words; she held his hand and tried to soothe his pain. He was a kind man, always present for her, her father's over-protectiveness had been contagious and he felt the need to follow his steps. His heart was too kind for his own good and now he was dying.

He had given up a life made of true love for himself in order to help her avoid the protocol. He had accepted her poor demand in marriage in order to give her shelter, taking with him the burden Emma carried.

She cupped his cheek, "I'm sorry."

With the little strength that remained in his system, Graham tried to roll on his side, his lips brushing a kiss into her palm, "Don't feel guilty. I'm leaving with a smile."

"You shouldn't have to go." Emma mouthed in a cry, trying to offer him her better smile.

"I love you." He said and she turned her face away, not capable to handle those words, not capable to face the truth but to run away.

She couldn't give those words back to him, couldn't tell him she loved him the way he did for her. His lips pressed more insistently on her palm, forcing her to bring her gaze on him, watering with tears underlining her puffy eyes.

"I know, Emma, I know." He whispered, death shading his voice with a veil, "I loved for the two of us. I had enough... Enough."

Emma rose slightly on her knees, made painful by her kneeling all day, "It shouldn't be like that, you shouldn't have to-"

"I was happy. I am happy, Emma." He repeated, "Do not cry for me. "

"I'm sorry." She rose on her feet and pressed a kiss to his temple, "It was not fair to you." She sat at his side, careful not to disturb anything, her hand resting on top of his chest, not wanting him to raise up and risk his stitches. "You deserved more."

"I was happy with what I had," h hand rested on top of hers, "You were enough, what you gave me was enough, I took whatever you gave me and cheris-cherished it Emma."

Bending over, she pressed her forehead to his, "It was wrong. It was wrong, you deserved better." Her hand caressed his curls, their texture different, the salt had ruined their original shape, the sweat of days of fighting for each breath had turned it to a mess, yet, she passed her fingers through it, trying to influx him with some love, as poor as it was compared to the one he felt for her. She cherished him though, cherished him as a friend, as a best friend and one she needed. "You shouldn't be here."

"I can't be without you, Emma," his hand squeezed hers, "Even though I know you will do just fine without me." The way he smiled asserting this broke her heart.

"It-"

"Don't lie to the dying, isn't what they say?" His laugh was not even bitter, no matter how much he would be right to be, "I always knew it and I was - am, fine with that."

"It's not fair." Emma cried, her lips quivering, barely letting the words out. "It's not fair, Graham."

"Nothing is fair, Emma, you know it better than anyone else, this life is not fair, it hasn't been good to you," his hand tried to raise up to cup her cheek, Emma anticipating his move and taking his hand with her own, cradling her cheek in his hand – so cold, so lifeless already, no matter what she did, she didn't seem to manage to warm him up.

"I need you."

Graham grinned softly, his eyes closing, "You do not. You will be okay." His index traced her cheekbone lazily, tiredness freezing his body. "I wish, I wish I could see the garden of the castle in flowers once –"

"There are blue flowers at the end of the balcony, vines curling up the columns, the ones we played with as children, trying to climb even though Joanna prohibited us so." It was a lie, they had never played together, the snow was swallowing nature wholly, making it impossible for anyone to go out without being covered properly, Emma was barely allowed outside the walls of the castle.

Yet she continued her tale. "The sun is high and shines bright, so bright, can you feel it on your cheek?" She stroked it gently, trying to warm him up, "You can smell the sun in the air, warm, enveloping you, there's sunflowers in the lower garden, there's a circle of birds above our heads." She tried to remember the old tales she had read as a child. "They sing a song we don't understand, we run in the fields, I have gathered my skirts up, I am swearing like a sailor and you tell me to be careful."

"You're never careful." Graham tried to chuckle.

"I never am." Emma agreed, smiling and pressing her lips against his forehead, "But you keep trying to hold my hand so I don't fall forward nose first in the mud."

"It's so warm."

It was cold in the room, too cold, Emma was shivering, but she still tried to keep up, hugging her coat around her with only one hand. "I think we should go to the seaside don't you think?"

"I'm tired of the sea, Emma." He said with a deadpan voice, the husky breath freezing her bones with sorrow.

"Then we can go to the forest, we can take a satchel and fill it with food, we don't tell Joanna nor father and we run."

"We run." He smiled. His eyes opened wide, scared, before finding peace in Emma's eyes, his expression softening so he could speak the last words; "You need to stop running. Stop running..." His thumb traced the side of her wrist, where her pulse was beating, alive.

In a last breath, a peaceful expression on his features, Graham left.

She felt like a prey to the shadows, the bite of the cold night was all around her, despite the sun that was high in the freezing sky. Her hands cupped his face, trying to bring him back, trying to hold onto one last smile, without success.

Her knees gave up on her even though she was sitting, her heart was hammering in her chest while his was dead, not pumping the blood anymore, her lungs were fighting for more air when his had given up.

Death sat heavily on her shoulders, mocking her as She claimed Graham for herself, sharing the glory with the Sea that Hook loved so much.

"Emma, you need to let go."

She hadn't heard Lancelot stand behind her, his hand was pressing on her shoulder trying to urge her back, away from Graham's bed. With her elbow, Emma jerked the sailor away, refusing to be touched. Her hands clasped around Graham's lapels, his cold body the only comforting thing in this room, surrounded by strangers she didn't know about, the whole ship twirled around her, her guts impossibly twisted in a knot. Hands reached for her elbow, Victor the physician or Lancelot she couldn't tell, but she groaned – the sound unfamiliar, foreign, not coming out of her chest and yet… All Emma knew was that if they forced her to let go, she would be left without any anchor, losing feet in a land she had nothing to hold onto, like a child drowning in cold seas, no chance to come up for air, gulping salty water until death came.

Her tongue tasted saltiness on her lips, Emma had not noticed that tears had kept falling down, a tug at her heart out of shame made her swallow them back.

"Swan." Hook's voice came from behind her, like a caress on the back of her neck, she felt his breath, even though he didn't touch her. "You have to let go."

Her own voice seemed lost, even when she spoke out loud, like a far away song, "No."

Hook sat on the bed, facing her, his hand closing Graham's eyes, she hadn't even noticed that, her eyes too blurry with tears, her voice hoarse from them. "He's gone, love, he's not coming back."

"He was alive just a minute ago." She painfully said, hands clenching around his collar, "He was alive." Yet her hands found no pulse under her shaking fingertips, she pressed her thumb to his throat and got no answer to her prayers, he was gone.

Emma's body was numb, heavy. Her ears filled with cotton, her mouth as well. When her eyes went up though, Emma saw the pirate's expression that had softened, his hand resting on top of hers, "I know."

"He was alive." She said, her head falling down from tiredness only stopped by Hook's shoulder, his hook on her back proving to be a welcomed touch, a curious one, the coldness of the metal not even making her react. "He was alive." She heard herself repeating, her body shaken by uncontrollable sobs. "He was alive."

"He died." Hook continued, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand, "This is why you need to let go now, love, he's gone, he ceased to be the man you loved the moment his heart stopped beating, he's gone. You need to let him go."

"Where is he going?" She shot him an eager gaze, her question not really seeking any answer but only an anchor. Hook stroked the back of her neck, religious questions were not needed now, yet, he tried to give her an answer.

"The sailors believe he's going to Davy Jones's locker, but that is if his body is sent to the sea."

"Will you-"

"No." He told her without letting her finish, "He made me promise I would bury him on land."

"Why did he-" She wiped her tears on the blanket, "Why did he have to die, why did he have to come on the deck when he was safe here." She asked without truly asking for an answer, even though her eyes settled on Hook for an instant.

"There's no answer to that but that he loved you and wanted you to be safe." He spoke softly, "He wanted you safe, he always has."

"He died."

"Yes he did."

"He died." She said again, her eyes scanning the room for someone to tell her the contrary, pleading Hook's for telling her it wasn't the case.

"He's gone, love, he's gone now" He repeated, his hand cradling the back of her head, her face burying deeper in the crook of his neck, her body limp with a dizziness she didn't control, her hands slowly starting to leave the cold body that had become stranger to her touch.

"He's gone and he wouldn't want you to cry over his cold body. Emma," Her name was spoken with great tenderness, one she wouldn't expect from a pirate, even less Hook, "You need to let go, Emma." His fingers traced the side of her cheek in the same way Graham had, the heat of his skin almost shocking, unfair, the contrast painful, dreaded. Yet she couldn't move, couldn't help herself but sink deeper in an embrace she couldn't fight. Gravity had no grasp on her, or so did she think at first before realizing that Hook had gotten closer, leaving it to her to push him away or to let go. A hand had wrapped its way around her knees, all Emma knew was that she was now held in Hook's arms, rocked like one would try to lull a child to sleep, her nose pressed against a leather-clad shoulder, her hand holding in a tight grip another collar, the skin under her knuckles warm, the pulse alive.

"He's not Graham anymore, a cold body once the soul gone is not a loved one, he's gone."

His words, true, honest, harsh on the skin, like salt poured on the wounds freshly made, found an echo in her, sound, shattering, her body convulsing as he held her tightly, she had no idea where she was now, only feeling the breeze of the wind in her hair. She didn't think of the sailors getting a full show on her miserable state, her mind was surrounded by a thick fog. At the back of her mind Emma distinguished the whispered words among the crowd, closing her eyes shut, she pressed her eyes to where it was dark, against Hook's warm body as she was carried in what seemed to be his cabins.

"He's dead." Emma whispered in a breath she didn't control, her voice a quivering sound in the lit room.

"I know, Emma, I know." Hook blew softly against her temple, his chin on the top of her head, his arms rocking her gently, until the shadows left her alone, like an anchor.

It made no sense, went against all protocol she knew, against common sense, against what she knew of pirates, against what she thought of him, yet, in the storm, her arms around his neck, holding onto a shimmering glint of hope, of sanity, his arms around her waist seemed to be the eye of the storm where rain stopped falling to offer them both a safe shelter. It was then that she realized how much she missed the touch of a father, the one of a mother… now Graham would never hold her again.

Her hands went instinctively to her stomach – was that how it felt, to have no one, no anchor, drowning as you were the prey to ghosts, demons and other things. To hell with the book, her ghost mother or her mission, nothing mattered to her than the lives that had been given up for the sake of an impossible ideal.

Hook was right –  _terribly right -_ there was no honor, no dignity, no royalty worth fighting for, none that deserved to be paid with the price of blood. As much as she hated to give reason to him, man of no code or honor - yet man who, in this moment, was giving her the one element she needed, in a no man's land where their titles were left at the door – a safe place to be, in an embrace of comfort much desired, as hope flew out of the window.

Crying, Emma held the pirate even more tightly.


	7. Setting Foot on Land

Her body was weak; she felt like she was looking at herself, a little bit like in a dream. It was hard to move, hard to put herself together. Emma tried to assess her surroundings, to understand where she was lying  – the sheets were warm, but they felt foreign – she knew she was not in her own bed. Then she felt and took into the rocking of the ship. The Jolly Roger. Right. But it was not her own cabin either-

 Then it hit her. Hard. Like a slap.

   _So cold._

 He was dead and no matter how she clenched the sheet to her chest she felt white bright cold, her body not hers, as if it hadn’t accepted the terrible truth, as if it were trying to get back to him.

 

“Good morning, Swan.” A husky voice that belonged to Hook came from the desk – she hadn’t spotted it until now and felt quite ridiculous for noticing him only now. Even though she was not bare to his eyes, thank God she wasn’t, she had been stripped from her boots and the first layer of clothes – mostly her cloak and the jacket that kept her warm and blocked the wind from freezing her. Yet, with his eyes scanning her face, she felt vulnerable and it didn’t help that he had witnessed her breaking down yesterday. She went as far as blushing, to her bosom even, when she remembered how he had carried her and cradled her against his chest.

 

Her body missed that heat he had shared with her. But mostly she missed feeling alive – and now that her head wasn’t so foggy, she remembered how alive he had felt.

 

Part of her was ashamed.

 

How could she meet the eyes of the man who had seen her weak, so vulnerable, and witnessed a fragility that her pride could not allow?

 

Her pride was harmed.

 

Her heart was mourning the friend who had loved her too much and had been driven to the grave for her. By her hand even.

 

Her hands held the silky material of the sheet more tightly, and she tried to fight back salty tears threatening to be shed, only her pride, wrapped around her like a flag managed to push them away. Hook leered at her before he tried to fake focus on whatever was on his desk. “You need to change clothes and probably clean yourself.” He asserted.

 

“Are you implying I’m smelly?” Emma couldn’t help but snap, glaring at him sharply.

 

He laughed to her frustrated expression, throwing on the desk dices she hadn’t noticed he was holding. “You are lovely, Swan, I’m just thinking that you may be wanting to bathe after our friend’s death.” He was back to serious, no laughter, his eyes carefully examining her, as if looking for injuries.

 

Her brows knitted together, Emma tried to talk with an even voice, “A bath would be nice.” She nodded, before adding, “Thank you.”

 

“I will have you brought a bathtub and leave you to it; you can stay here until you feel better.”

 

He stood up and walked to the door, gathering his coat in his arms and putting it on. It was an intriguing thing to watch, he seemed smaller - not less impressive and ready to kill but less Captain-like, more accessible.

 

Or maybe it was the fact they had shared something last night – she blushed at the memory, hating herself for doing so. She wasn’t a person who was capable of displaying her feelings; her whole life passed at the side of a half-dead half-alive mother hadn’t helped. Last night had been terrible for many reasons but it was scaring her the way she had needed him. From her childhood Emma had learned one thing, the need to be independent; getting attached to someone was really dangerous, and she had learned that lesson all along her life. Having someone as an anchor was a dangerous thing to have. Her father had held her mother as the very anchor of his life – and now he was dying from his sadness.

 

She couldn’t relay on Hook. She couldn’t let him get closer to her - not that she feared him or thought he could get any closer, but Graham’s death had opened her eyes on a constant in her life: no one was eternal, people left, as easily as the wind.

 

“Hook.” She called him before he left, watching him turn around to meet her eyes.

 

He didn’t talk, his eyes just holding hers, it appeared that the both of them were tiptoeing around what had occurred last night; it was fine for her for all it mattered. She would rather not breach the subject and let it die, and Hook seemed not inclined to talk a lot, but not because of embarrassment Emma noticed; it was more a respect for her feelings. It felt strangely nice coming from someone like him.

 

“Thank you.” She acknowledged, “Not just for the bath-“

 

“It’s alright, love.” He affirmed, putting around his waist his belt with the sword that hung at his side, Emma for a second caught in how deft he was with only one hand, “ I will have Smee preparing you a bath and you will be left in private.” He pulled the chair away from the bed and placed it in the middle of the room, not far away from the door, “Put this in front of the door if you want to, but I assure you no one will enter the room.”

 

“Not even you?”

 

He smiled, shaking his head, “Not even me. Rest reassured, you have soap in the closet over there, you shall use it.” Seeing her face at his words he added, with a wider smile, “Because I doubt you want only to wash yourself with water, my crew only have a cheap kind of soap, you shall use mine.”

 

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

 

The question escaped her before she had a chance to stop herself.

 

“I never said I couldn’t be sensitive, love.” He said without giving her the time to answer.

 

 

 

 

 

.

.

.

.

.

 

 

Hook had left her the soap on the desk, she brought it to her nose and was surprised to smell rose, a perfume she would not have expected from him, and she tried to recall Hook’s smell - Emma was almost sure he did not smell like rose. The soap was unused, new, still with sharp edges, but she was amazed that he had this kind of product in his possession.

 

Two knocks on the door and Smee appeared, followed by two sailors carrying the bathtub. They slowly but surely filled it with warm water brought in buckets, Smee supervising them. Emma tried to look busy, feeling the eyes of Smee on her once in a while, and the not so innocent ones from the other sailors. As she waited for them to be done, Emma eyed the map of the world in front of her. It was gracefully drawn, the hand was sure, the lines had been traced without hesitation. At the left corner bottom of the map was signed “KJ” and Emma understood that Hook had made it – it was curious to see him sign with another name.

_KJ_

_Killian Jones._

The name sounded different in her head, she didn’t think of the pirate, it felt weird, uncommon, like a stranger.

 

She shivered.

 

“Miss?” Smee called her softly, pulling her out of her reverie, “Bath is ready for you.” He was standing at her right and was barely taller than Emma who was sitting.

 

“Thank you Smee.”

 

“I put a plank for you on top of the bath, with a glass of wine - I thought... I thought the Miss would want wine over rum.” He babbled, his cheeks rosy.

 

“That is thoughtful of you, thank you.” She squeezed his gloved hand, the gesture awkward for both of them but definitely more for the sailor, whose ears reddened to the tips. Emma smiled, watching them leave. She was left all alone, finally. As If she was in a trance, Emma started to undress herself, slowly getting rid of the clothes that hugged her body too tightly, feeling like she could finally breathe. Entering the tub, she couldn’t help but exhale in relief when she felt the heat of the water wrapped around her.

 

She let herself relax, trying not to focus too much on the events, dipping her head in the water. Holding her breath, she let her mind wander somewhere else, dreaming of fields where the sun could warm her skin gently, of flowers she had never seen.

 

 Far, far away from the eternal snow of her own land.

 

The book was their last hope, but she didn’t quite grasp why it was so; her father had been unbelievably optimistic, like she had never seen him before. He believed that it was their last chance to bring freedom to the kingdom, that it was their last chance to bring Snow White to them. If Emma believed the first task could be accomplished, she doubted the last could ever occur. It was partially due to the fact she had never known the woman the whole kingdom mourned for years now, she had been too young to remember her alive. Selfishly, she didn’t want to see her mother back – it would be having a stranger entering her life, not a mother coming back into it. How could you fight for someone you didn’t know; Emma did it for the love she held for her father but not for Snow White herself, because no matter what she had been told about the woman she had been once, she was a stranger.

 

A stranger who treated her badly, Snow White seemed to be sick at the very sight of Emma, screaming and yelling to get this “thing” away from her.

 

Emma’s stomach turned into a knot, guilt stiffened her throat painfully, she wrapped her arms around herself, hands flat on her arms, the same way she did as a child when she had a nightmare and no sound could escape her lips. She felt cold in her bath, cold in her heart, as if the snow had followed her, the chill of the eternal winter following her even here, into the safety of this cabin; the room was warm, yet she felt cold.

 

She felt the emptiness of the cavity in her chest, feeling her heart racing against her ribcage, as if ready to explode, like a panic attack coming on. Breathing through her nose, Emma tried to calm down, holding herself tighter but nothing seemed to change. Worse, her hands hurt, her arms burned. She disappeared under water, trying to calm herself down, to slow the racing of her heart.

 

A chill traveled through her body, although she was in hot water; suddenly her hands were burning her and  she came out to the surface, breathing hard. Looking more closely at her palms, she noticed that they were burned.

 

The water was all around her, she was not burned anywhere else but her palms, bright red and hurting like hell. Delicately and careful not to make it worse, she took the towel laid behind her and wrapped her body in it, laying her palms flat against the soft material. It didn’t hurt much more now, but she was left puzzled, she didn’t understand what had just happened.  The skin of her palms was starting to bubble up, she bit back a cry, trying to understand how this had happened, she scanned the rest of her body was still only her hands were burned.

 

Emma looked at the door, torn between calling Hook’s physician for help, but the idea to have to tell the Captain irked her, she didn’t want him to get involved any more. She needed gloves, but the idea of pressing leather to her skin made her bristle. 

 

She would hide them beneath her cloak she thought, she would try to find a way to heal them when they reached the land.

 

“Swan?” Hook startled her when he knocked at the door, not entering the room. Instinctively, she closed the distance from where she stood to the door, pressing herself against it to prevent Hook from coming in.

 

“I’m not covered.” She said, hugging the towel around her, gritting her teeth together when the material burned the skin of her hands. 

 

“Well that isn’t exactly something to tell me love.” Emma heard him laugh through the door, the sound muffled by the wood, but she felt him lean against the door and her heart missed a beat, afraid he might force his way in, so she warned him.

 

“Enter this room and I will cut you.” 

 

“My, my,  love, I’m a gentleman, I won’t enter. Do not worry. I’m just here to tell you to get dressed; I’m getting a boat prepared for us to get to land. Be ready in ten minutes.”

 

“I will be there.” She assured him.

 

“Emma?” His voice had lowered to a whisper now, “Dress warmly, the wind is strong on deck.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

 

 

Her hair was still wet but braided on her shoulder to avoid getting sick. Her cloak wrapped around herself tightly, she hid her hands behind it, not wanting to bring attention to her. She bristled when the wind blew in her hair. Hook was waiting for her on the deck wearing a black cloak, the hood pulled back on his head. He looked different, though not in a bad way for sure, but without all the leather, the shining jewels hidden from the eye, he looked less pirate-like, but nevertheless dangerous.

 

“Now this won’t do.” He breathed out walking toward her and with his hook and hand, pulled the hood over her head, almost hiding her eyes as it fell low on her forehead. “Until we are in the court of the Prince, we can’t risk anyone to recognize us, nor to have you catch a cold.”

 

“Worried too much?” Emma bit a laugh.

 

“I can’t afford you to be sick, we are on a mission.” He gave her an pointed look.

 

The boat was ready for them, Hook guided her to it and offered his hook to help her get aboard. It was just his hook, she thought, therefore he couldn’t feel the ruined skin of her palms. It would not hurt her more to hold to a hook for a brief instant. She wrapped her fingers around the metal and took place in the boat. Hook didn’t see anything or if he did he didn’t comment.

 

“So what’s the plan?”

 

“The plan is we have to get through two miles of forest before reaching the town, and then we need to get into the castle where we will officially present you.”

 

A sailor was with them, rowing them to the land.

 

“You know that there’s little chance for us to get into the castle without being invited. It’s heavily guarded.”

 

“That I am aware of; how do you think I got into your castle?” He smiled wickedly, making her roll her eyes at him. She hugged her coat around her, now that they were away from the Jolly Roger Emma realized how big it was and how she had gotten used to the life on there.

 

But her heart squeezed painfully in her chest, remembering Graham; the sea, as Emma laid her eyes on it, seemed a peaceful horizon, a peaceful corner of the world where nothing bad could happen. She knew better though for having experienced it, that the sea could hide the most dangerous perils, that you could never truly sleep without fearing what would happen next. Storms, other pirates, even your own crew, everything was a possible danger. She thought of too-good Graham, killed unfairly because she had been too proud.

 

Graham had died.

 

“What-“ she started but the words died in her throat, too tight to let anything escape her lips, the hood falling lower on her face to hide her eyes and protect her dignity.

 

“I took charge if that is what you’re asking for,” Hook answered her question, looking away and then back down to their feet, “I will have him transported to land as soon as you require it.“

 

Emma nodded. “The body?”

 

“Wrapped in linen, Victor took care of it, and Lancelot is currently guarding the room.”

 

The name hung between them. Emma tried not to visualize the scene, she didn’t want to imagine his body, cold, lifeless. “I want him to be buried properly, as a true hero.” She told him, looking from under her lashes to catch his reaction, “I want him to have a true funeral in the forest.”

 

“He shall have it.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“My, so many thanks in so little time.”

 

“Don’t get used to it.”

 

The forest was enveloped in a thick fog that froze her to the bones, the smell of the wet leaves was welcomed though; it was a memory of her home. Graham and her would go into the forest when they were younger, only if the weather was nicer, which happened only once per year if they were lucky. The snow would melt and let the grass finally appear. This was why Graham loved it so much, she guessed, it was a rare moment, one where the forest could finally breathe, undressed of its heavy snowy coat.  Almost in a reverie, Emma looked at the tops of the trees; Aurora and Philip’s kingdom were the closest to theirs, also known to be among the very few allies they could count on. When Emma was only 13, her father had sought the help of the other kingdoms to protect his own; the borderline was strategic, it was their only defense from the Evil Queen’s kingdom, dead and dry as sand. Aurora’s kingdom was fertile and a safe land when her father’s kingdom was made of snow only. She sighed, lowering her head into the safe crown of her hood, her hands rising up in the confinement of her cloak so she didn’t show her burns to him, trying to pull the hood over her head a bit more, wanting to hide her eyes from him. That mission was an insane idea, chasing a book that they didn’t even surely know the purpose of; her father had been ecstatic about it, but that was about all she knew. It was a suicidal mission.

 

They hit land and finally Emma got to set foot, her legs made weak by days on the sea, and she almost fell to her knees, trying to brace herself as best as she could; it was only for Hook giving her his hand, helping her keep her balance, but she pushed him away and his eyes for a bare second lingered on her hands. She froze, afraid he had seen the burned skin.

 

Dazzled, she pulled harder against him, forcing him to let go. She tried to make it work, wobbling on her legs until she could finally walk a straight line.

 

“We need to be quick and avoid the road, we don’t need to meet anyone in the forest.” Hook told her, walking at her side, eyes straight on the path ahead. “Bandits are all around the land, hiding in the forest for two golden coins.”

 

“You seem well-informed.”

 

Hook tilted his head to the side, grinning, “A man needs to know everything about the journey he’s taking, if he doesn’t want to be fooled or taken by surprise.”

 

Emma arched a brow, stepping along faster, “A man but not a woman.” She felt like she did back at the court, with the crowd of men around her father, no much better than ravens lurking for a prey, pushing her aside for the sole reason of her sex, weaker, inferior. Emma held her chin up, gritting her teeth together; apparently she had misjudged Hook, thinking him different.

 

“Now do not put the words in my mouth. I have barely mentioned a fact based on my experience; there is no insult laying in my words, you are taking it as such because of your pride.”

 

“You act like a prick.” Emma said all on one breath. “You claim to be a gentleman but you act nothing like it.”

 

“You act too high, even for your rank.” Hook bit back, walking faster at her side and forcing her to lengthen her steps. “I don’t doubt your capabilities; you are the only one to act as if you need to prove something.” He paused, musing over something before chuckling, “You sure do not talk like a princess.”

 

Emma stopped in her tracks, furious. “Just because I’m a woman I can’t swear? Just because I’m a princess I can’t participate? What is it with men and their stupid conception of us not being able to deal with anything?” She waved at him, “You obviously know nothing of women. Seeing as you’re alone.”

 

Obviously, she hit a nerve, because he was back in front of her, standing high and his eyes dark with anger, forcing her to lift her chin up if she wanted to look at him, “You have a problem with the world and that is fine with me, love, but do not put me in the same basket; you’re not the only one with a problem here. You have an issue with trust. You are so caught up in your pride and your need to prove the world you can that you fail to see what’s right in front of you.”

 

“Pride?” Emma repeated, revolted, “My pride? What about yours? What about your cockiness and your fake manners, you’re nothing but a pirate and yet you bless yourself for your manners. You want to talk about me?” She groaned and watched him sharply when he dared - the bastard - to grin. “Yes I have to fight, yes I have to, I’m the heir of a dead kingdom that my father and his council won’t even let me rule, and why is that? Because my father sees me as a little girl! Because his men see me as a weak woman only! Hell! Even Graham didn’t trust me enough to let me fight my own battles!”

 

“There it is, love,” His voice lowered almost to a whisper, “You’re not mad at me, you’re mad at your father, you’re even mad a Graham, rest his soul the poor man can’t catch a break even cold and dead.”

 

She slapped him.

 

And he must have bitten his cheek or tongue, because Hook spit blood on the floor. For a bare second she feared he might give her payback, but he eyed her, “All I know, Swan, is that no man should underestimate you; I would let you fight at my side. I know you can handle yourself, not as a girl, but as a woman.” He leaned closer, so close his breath fanned her cheek. “I have nothing to justify myself for, you know nothing, and you won’t know a thing from me because this is not why we are here for. We are here to find help with your friend the Prince, that’s all. Your vendetta with your father or your kingdom is no business of mine.”

 

“You think so highly of yourself.” Emma said, swallowing a breath that she hadn’t even noticed she was holding until now. “Don’t you?”

 

Hook’s only answer was a husky laugh, his hook raised between them. “Oh love, you don’t know what I think and better for you not to dig too much into what I may be thinking, you wouldn’t like it.” The loop of his hook caught her wrist and brought her hand to the level of his eyes, “Do you think this is being brave?”

 

Brows knitted together, Emma tried to push him away but he kept her close to him, his eyes not bothering to meet hers but lingering on her wound, scanning the hurt skin. “You don’t need to bother. It’s nothing.”

 

“Now you’re talking nonsense.” With his hand, Hook pulled the lapel of his cloak out of way, opening it so he could reach for something he held in a satchel, “Victor always makes sure I have some ointment with me for the wounds.”

 

“Your hook.” She guessed, feeling taken aback by his half-confession - not quite, but the meaning of the balm was more than evident. One had to be blind not to make the connection between the medical ointment and his appendage.

 

His eyes remained on her wound, though she saw a shadow passing over his face, something flickering behind his eyes that tensed his features, “Sharp and chafing.” He started applying the fat cream on her palm, his fingers gentle, his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration. “It should make you feel better until we arrive. You will have to have the physician of the court take a proper look at it, since Victor didn’t do it for you.  You should have told him, no matter how you seem to resent me.”

 

“Who would have thought the fearsome Captain Hook, so dark, so scary, would carry around a balm like the perfect princess.” She mocked him, feeling her lips curling in a wry smile that wasn’t meant to please.

 

He gritted his teeth as he spoke, poorly concealing his sharp intake of breath. “You could simply say thank you.”

 

“Thank you.” Emma said under her breath; it had been rude of her to consider his own wound with so little regard. Joanna would be mad at her for her lack of manners… Was it that living with pirates could turn you into one of them? She refused to believe so; she wouldn’t let them. While she refused the wear dresses made to lessen her, she knew there was a certain code, manners and properness to maintain. “I apologize for insulting you.”

 

“Not for the slap?”

 

“No, that you deserved.”

 

Hook chuckled. “That I had, and I apologize for my manners. I went too far, although I believe in every word I’ve said, if not the way I put them.” He took his scarf, eyeing her briefly to see if Emma accepted it, and seeing her nod, he pursued, “You’re a strong lass, love, shame on the one who believes you to be any less, and you being the first person to deserve shaming for thinking little of yourself.”

 

His words hit her hard, and realizing the truth in them, Emma swallowed her pride and spoke, “I believe my words were a little harsh toward your person, but not empty of truth.”

 

“That I believe you flatter yourself with.” He chuckled, the sound warm and welcoming her to drop the weapons and go back to a nicer exchange. They needed to team up if they wanted to get to the book and help her kingdom.  “There, all right, it should hold until we arrive.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

She gave him a look warning him not to make another comment, only getting him to smile wider. With his hand, Hook pulled the hood properly over her head, his hook coming up to help him adjust it.

 

“Careful, it’s going to rain soon.”

 

“How can you tell?”

 

“I would be a poor sailor if I couldn’t read the weather.” He simply answered, a ghost passing on his face before he decided to go back to their path.

 

“Are you some kind of a witch?” Emma dared to mock him, pleased to see him chuckling. She tried to keep up with him, which was hard since he was truly trying to get them through the forest. A grin appeared on her face at the thought that the man who was so comfortable upon the seas didn’t enjoy the land that much. Looking around them, Emma took into the forest around them; the trees were really tightly interlaced together, making it hard to see properly more than a few yards ahead of them. To add to their trekking, Hook turned out to be right, the rain started to fall, not pouring yet, thank God. Emma doubted her cloak could keep her dry until they made it to the town. The rest of their walk continued in silence, something she was grateful for, leaving her time to muse over what had happened in the last days. Her body had recovered, she carried in her purse hanging at her belt a few dried fruits that Smee had given to her before she had left, which she was thankful for; since Graham’s death, eating had been nothing but a chore, appetite lost to her.

 

The weather was chilly, the air thicker as it gathered up with the drops of the rain and Emma let out a gasp when she shivered, making Hook turn to her.

 

“Take those.” His hand extended to her held a pair of leather gloves, “Those should stop you from smahing your teeth together.”

 

She didn’t think twice and accepted them.” What about you?”

 

“As you can see, love,” He once again made a display of his hook, “I only have one hand.” He observed her pull them on, grinning in that way that left her puzzled, not wanting to delve onto whatever she felt. Seeing her expression he lowered his head and spoke between gritted teeth, “I was thinking of using them once we reached the town, but they would be more useful to you now.”

 

“Why are you so caring all of sudden?”

 

His eyes flashed back to her and he took a step back, “I told you Swan, I’m not the heartless man you think me to be.”

 

Emma remembered what he had done for her yesterday, how he had cared more than she had ever thought him capable of, her heart suddenly hammering against her ribcage, her hands shaking although they were newly covered by warm leather. “I don’t think that anymore.” She uttered with a tight voice. 

 

To that he didn’t answer, obviously disturbed by her sudden display of friendly face directed at him.

 

“You lost someone.”

 

He gazed at the rest of the way they had to walk, his voice lost to him, or so it seemed, before he answered in a voice that seemed to come from very far away.

 

“Not just someone.” He said enigmatically, before adding in a whipser that Emma almost didn’t hear. “Everyone.”

 

 

.

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.

 

They made it to the closest town, from there Hook believed that Emma could have a message sent to the castle to announce her presence, they would need t hire a man to deliver the letter to the Prince or Princess and then they would be able to make their entrance into the castle safely. She didn’t like the plan that much, mostly because it meant making a pause where they could have just gone forward.

 

“We can’t simply walk in.” Hook had told her, answering her silent question.

 

“Like the way you did in my castle?” She arched a brow that made him grin wider.  “Wouldn’t it be better to have taken one of your men with us?”

 

Hook shook his head, “No, we would be way more visible, alone we are faster. And I don’t fancy leaving the Jolly without anyone to look after her. ” He put his hand on her arm, guiding her to the next inn, “We will have to make a stop here, the night is falling and I don’t want to walk in the dark.”

 

“Wouldn’t it be better for us to keep going and simply rent a horse?”

 

“To get attacked in the middle of the night by bandits? I appreciate your trust in my skills to defend us both but I would rather avoid any kind of trouble.” His hand went from her arm to the small of her back, “Stay close to me, this inn is known to be visited by bandits and other pirates.”

 

“I believe I can handle myself.” She tried not to sound too rude as she spoke, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was being belittled.

 

“That I do believe, it is only easier to stick together, Swan, hold onto me and pretend to be my wife.”

 

Emma glared at him, thinking he was joking.

 

“Do you prefer those men thinking of you as my whore?”

 

Emma saw red at his words, pushing him in the chest. “Don’t even think of touching me.” She opened the door and left it to him to follow her.

 

The inn was also a bar where people stopped to eat, obviously  the concept of a bath was foreign to them considering the awful smell of the room. She spotted a few sailors, and her eyes went to Hook who shook his head.

 

Good to know that none of them would possibly recognize them. It would be a bad thing for them if they were to be discovered so quickly.

 

She blessed him for thinking of bringing a cloak and not walking in the inn with all the dramatic effects she knew him capable of. He seemed lost in his thoughts as they sat at a table, only breaking out of his reverie to order two beers, without even asking her first what she wanted.

 

“Now what do we do?” She asked over her drink, ignoring how the waitress was leaning over the table so they both had a good view of her impressive cleavage.

 

Hook thanked the woman and didn’t give her the attention she desired, though his eyes lingered on her as soon as her back was to them. Pissed, Emma kicked him in the leg, only to have him grin at her - he had done it on purpose. Bastard, she whispered between her teeth.

 

He was trying to rile her up and Emma was not in the mood.

 

“We will have to pay a man to send a letter, if we go to the castle without announcing ourselves first, we risk to be arrested before we get to see the Prince.” He explained to her after taking a sip of the ale. Emma followed him and took a sip too, grimacing when the bitter alcohol went down her throat. Looking at the waitress over the counter, she wondered if she spit in it, since the display of her top wasn’t to flirt but rather to make Emma feel little next to her.

 

The thought making her sick, Emma pushed the ale away and refused to touch it anymore. “How do you find a man, though?”

 

Hook scooted closer to her, humming, “Oh but Swan, it’s simple, we enter in contact with the right man and we give him the letter.” His breath was on her cheek, and he was looking down onto her. Obviously Hook expected her to back off and roll her eyes but feeling bold and wanting to mock him back, Emma leaned closer, brushing her nose with his.

 

More, her hand went to his thigh, caressing the inside of it gently. “And how do we find this right man?”

 

“We both try to talk to those men.” He cocked his head to the side, eyes meeting hers, bright blue flashing with deep green, “Or you can leave it to me.”

 

“And miss all the fun,” Her hand tapped on the table until she reached for his ale, making it fall on his lap, wetting his pants, “Now that all those men believe me to be single and not interested by you,” She pushed him away, smiling at the trick she played him, “It will be easier to get in touch with one of these gentlemen.” Her tongue caught between her teeth, she gave him her best face and got up, opening her cloak to show her covered cleavage, not as impressive as the wench’s yes, but still a nice leverage that will catch the attention and yet the outfit will keep them at bay with respect. And if she needed help, there was the dagger in her boot. Hook had believed it to be better to leave the sword she usually carried on the ship; a woman with a sword would drag attention to them, and if she hated it she had said yes nevertheless, keeping her dagger hidden.

 

“You’re a hell of a woman.” The pirate laughed, waving for the waitress to bring him another, “You do know I only have one pair of pants.”

 

“I do believe you’re smart enough to figure out a way.” She pointed to the woman who came to their table. “After all, that’s your kind of women.”

 

The tip of his tongue touched his bottom lip, eyes scanning her with an expression that left Emma breathless, she knew those looks, had experienced them before, but coming from him it was different. “You have no idea what is my kind of women, love. Believe me.”

 

Well that was something else for sure. Her eyes locked with his, she started unbraiding her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders, shrugging to try to bring it under control.

 

“Swan.” He called her before she could leave and go to the closest table. “I know you don’t need to hear it.”

 

“Then don’t say it.”

 

“Be careful, those men are bandits for most of them, when they aren’t assassins.”

 

“You want to send an assassin to the castle? Are out of your mind?”

 

“My, my, Swan,” He calmed her down with a hand raised in front of him, his hook grasping the rag the waitress had brought, the woman literally sitting next to Hook, though she would probably sit on his lap had the said lap not be wet. “That is why, we need to carefully pick our men. Avoid these two.” With his chin he showed her two men in the corner of the room, “Those two look like no good. Don’t even bother.”

 

“Alright.”  She spun on her heels, ignoring the ridiculously high laughter of the woman holding Hook’s arm. He could do whatever he wanted with that woman as far as Emma was concerned, but the fact that he took everything so carelessly, her included bothered her.

 

He left her terribly confused; she knew him capable of great kindness, so where was the man who had held her against his chest now? Her hands clenched into fists, covered with his gloves, another proof of what kind of man he could be. Yet, as Emma looked over her shoulder all she saw was him petting the whore (there was no other word to describe the woman, she was obviously more skilled at it than at waitressing, though Emma guessed that here the job implied both). She turned her head back to her task; this was none of her business.

 

“Hello there, gentlemen.” She slid to the smelly and interested man’s side, “I need your help.”

 

“Aye, ma’am”, the grumpy man lightened up, showing her a smile made of missing teeth, his fat fingers brushing over the wrist Emma had left on the table. She was thankful for the gloves she wore because looking down to notice the man’s disgusting and dirty hands, Emma only wanted to pull away. “What is a pretty lady such as yourself doing here?” His hand went higher on her arm, his nose dropping to her bosom, the fact it was covered didn’t seem to bother him judging by the way his nostrils widen.

 

Years spent at the court taught her to handle the art of manipulation, her smile her most precious weapon. Her free hand brushed a curl behind her shoulder, laughing. “I’m a damsel in distress. I require your help.”

 

“Anything.” The man waved his hand to the side, before placing her gloved hand on his chest, letting her feel his heart.  “My heart belongs to you lady. It does.” He was obviously drunk, he smelled like sweat and bad alcohol, making it harder for Emma to smile when he blew in her face.  “Same thing with my body.” He held her hand tighter and started to take it south to his groin. Emma stood up, almost making him fall over his face.

 

The man tried to hold her but Emma shoved him back, taking her leave. Going back to the table she shared with Hook was not possible since he was in a very deep conversation with the woman, his fingers traveling over her collarbone. Emma rolled her eyes, how could she not, she was the only one working for their goal, while he was enjoying himself in a shameless way.

 

Biting her lips enough to drag blood to her mouth, Emma fought the strong need to cry, not allowing herself the weakness. She didn't miss the fiancé but the friend, Graham, who would have been of a great help this right second and surely not flirting around.

 

But that is, only because he was too far taken by her to notice anyone else.

 

Emma opened the door of the inn, not caring a moment if Hook was looking or not, her hand flat on her stomach trying to keep the sickness away. The fresh air brushed over her like a relief, feeling truly better now that she wasn't surrounded by the impossible smell of men, sweat, and alcohol.

 

The thought of leaving the inn and getting herself her own horse to gallop to Philip's castle was more than tempting; she would get rid of Hook and simply continue her journey alone, bring back the book to her father.

 

Yet, no matter how much she claimed her ability to deal with everything on her own, she had never travelled this far and she had no idea which way to go to find the castle. Granted she could ask for help, ask someone for the right route.

 

Her hands were shaking despite the gloves, her whole body shivering, it took all her willpower not to fall to the ground and curl around herself. She longed for her father’s touch but she couldn’t even call it to her mind; it had been too long since her dad had truly showed tenderness to her, too lost in his own mourning.

 

A mouth covered her mouth and a hard body was pressed against hers. Her back hit the wall in a dark alley, a man’s hands on her sides. Her teeth sank into his lip hard, biting down until she drew blood, anger, fear ran through her blood, she tried not to let either of those emotions rule her though giving in to the first one would be easy, the second turning dangerous if Emma let it govern her. The man groaned in his beard in pain, but held her tighter.

 

"Think you can wander around without being noticed." He blew his putrid  breath at her face. "Princess Emma."

 

Emma’s body went rigid.

 

No one knew her here.

 

No one knew her identity.

 

Her hand closed around the dagger at her side, trying to wriggle it but the man’s grip was too tight. The light was so dim she could barely make out the shape of his face.  “Pretty Princess,” his finger traced the side of her neck, “So much creamy skin, such a lovely throat, what a pity.” He licked her jaw, “To have to cut such a lovely neck.”

 

"You filthy pig." Emma spit to his face and managed to finally grip her dagger and stab the man in the back. The shock of the blow echoed in her bones, she had no idea what she had hit but she hoped it was vital. With her free hand, she tried to get rid of him, pushing him off but even though in great pain, the man remained where he was standing. His body was pressing her against the wall, heavy mass sweating and now bleeding on her. She didn’t see it but she felt her hand covered in a thick and hot liquid. Emma held back a cry of disgust. She tried to lift her leg up and kick him in the groin but he was too heavy on her even if the blow was making him breath hard.

 

"You fucking bitch whore!" He yelled before he gasped, blood coming out of his mouth and splashing on his clothes. Emma covered her mouth so she didn’t let a cry escape as the man fell to his knees, revealing Hook standing behind him. It was only then she took in the hook that was stabbed in the man’s neck.

 

“You alright, Swan?” Hook asked with a look of concern, freeing his hook of the now dead body, pushing the man on his back with his foot.

 

Still shocked, Emma nodded, kneeling down to pick up her dagger, but Hook reached it first, cleaning it up against his coat before handing it to her.

 

“None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you.” She said sharply between her teeth, not looking at him but staring at the dagger in her hand, “If you had spent less time-“

 

Emma couldn’t finish her sentence before Hook was taking her by the elbow and walking her into a corner, and her body froze thinking he was going to pin her against a wall like the man before but he maintained a distance between them.

 

“You decided to go outside, not me, do not blame me for being jealous of-“

 

“Jealous of who? A whore?” She had to fight back the urge of slap him again, her nails digging into her palms, reminding her of the scarred skin. “I’m pissed that while you’re flirting and trying to get laid I’m trying to get us out of there!”

 

“I got us a messenger!” Hook yelled, using his commanding voice before breathing hard through his nose that he pinched with two fingers, “I got the woman to deliver the message to the castle.”

 

“And what now?”

 

Hook didn’t answer her, his attention on the man lying at his feet.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Give me a second.” He knelt to the ground, pushing his coat behind him as he started unbuttoning the man’s sleeve, scrunching his nose at the smell and revealing a tattoo on his forearm.

 

“What does it mean?”

 

“What did the man tell you, Swan?”

 

Emma came closer to the body, examining inked lines on the man’s wrist; it was a skeleton wearing a crown, holding a stick. The shape was faded with time, but the drawing made Emma shiver.

 

“What did the man tell you, lass?” Hook repeated.

 

“He knew my name...” Emma mumbled, feeling her hands shaking, “He knew I was a princess. And he said something about me being stupid if I thought I could wander around without being noticed.”

“What does it mean?” Emma asked, feeling her head spin; she was obviously in shock because of what happened, and Hook hand went to her arm, careful not to scare her.

 

“Edward Teach.” He spoke the name carefully, “You met him and he’s obviously after you now.” He paused and watched her reaction, before adding in a whisper, “Blackbeard.”

 

“Why does he want me dead?”

 

She pulled away from the pirate. It made no sense, Blackbeard had a problem with Hook, not with her. Shivering, Emma remembered how the pirate had pressed himself against her, used her as leverage against Hook, and how he had threatened her.

 

“I don’t know, love,” He dipped his head, his face set into firm lines. “I don’t know why he sent someone after you when he obviously has a problem with me.  But what I know is that it’s not safe for you to be alone.”

 

“I jabbed him.”

 

“I know.” He rolled the man on his stomach and showed her the wound. “You got caught between two ribs, but you didn’t reach a vital organ. That’s why he didn’t let go.” His eyes flickered over hers, trying to make contact even though Emma avoided his stare. “Are you sure you’re okay, Emma?”

 

She finally got out of her stupor, his blue eyes were staring at her with great worry, his face creased with concern,  “I am.” She assured him, the man hadn’t had time to hurt her, he had only scared her.

 

Hook got to his feet, closing the distance between them and trying to smile at her, “I swear to you Swan that Blackbeard signed his death warrant when he decided to attack you.  Will it be too much to ask for you to stay at my side, where I can make sure you’re safe?” He added before she had time to correct him, “I know you can fight, I know you can handle yourself. That doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”

 

Speechless and moved by his words, Emma nodded, trying to stop the quivering of her body.

 

“Let’s get you inside. You’re frozen.”

 

 

.

.

.

.

.

 

 

“I can’t share a room with you.” Emma refused, offended that he would think she would agree with that.

 

“I’m not going to pay for another room, and I’m surely not going to leave you alone in a room when someone just tried to kill you.”

 

His second argument made sense but Emma sucked a breath in, “It’s not proper.”

 

Hook groaned, “Properness is the last of our worries, love, we are in an inn and there  is no way we are safe here; it will be better and safer to share a room. I never talked about sharing a bed, but if that’s what you-“

 

“Alright.” Emma cut him off, closing her eyes briefly; she felt extremely tired, the attack had gotten to her nerves and a bed was the only thing she desired right now. “I’m not sharing a bed with you though.”

 

“Of course you aren’t.” Hook looked around them, “Better to give the impression that you are my wife.”

 

“Not your whore?”

 

“You’re far too respectable to my eyes to be such a woman, love,” He scooted closer to her, “I will put my arm around your waist. Try not to look like you’re going to throw up.” His arm closed around her waist and drew her against him. Her body reacted to his closeness, still keeping in memory the way he had held her.

 

“Easier said than done.”

 

“Yet you didn’t seem to complain about it-“ He stopped himself, realizing how he sounded, “Sorry.”

 

Emma ignored him and looked around, “Can we go upstairs? I’m tired.” She whispered in his ear, trying to look like an in love woman, her arm awkwardly hugging him back. From over the counter, she saw their messenger looking at her with obviously jealousy.

 

“Sure thing, love.” He got up and offered her his hand to stand up at his side, “Wait for me here, though, I will talk to Ania.”

 

He walked to the woman and apparently asked her something. Ania leaned heavily against the counter- Emma wondered if her feet were even touching the floor. She saw the woman grab Hook’s wrist and caress it with an all too knowing smile as she whispered something in his ear. Hook seemed to laugh, though Emma believed he was faking it, the smile he wore not quite reaching his eyes. He shook his head and bid her goodnight.

 

“Let’s go.” He told her as he wrapped his arm back around her waist, kissing her cheek in a surprising gesture that was hard for Emma not to react with a gasp of shock, “You’re my wife aren’t you?” He explained to her, “You don’t want to let these men think you’re my whore do you?”

 

Emma believed that at this point it didn’t matter much, but since she accepted to play the part she leaned in as if to kiss him, brushing her nose against his.

 

 “You sleep on the floor.” She whispered on his lips, her hands framing his face and her thumb caressing the scar on his cheek, “Touch me and I will show you how I can jab a man properly.” His skin was warm under her fingers, he smelled of alcohol – though he was far from being drunk - and spices.  From where she was standing, she could see the blueness of his eyes, a color that could steal one’s breath away. A fact she would keep for herself.

 

“As long as you use a sword.” The innuendo rolled off his tongue, and Emma rolled her eyes at the remark she should have expected from him. He was so terribly predictable when it came to those stupid jokes. Yet it felt nice to fall back into this banter, as if it were safer.

 

Emma finally pulled away from him, shooting him a beaming smile over her shoulder that was supposed to say to the whole bar that she was waiting for her husband to show her more. She saw him brush a thumb over his lips, the gesture almost obscene, putting fire to the skin of her cheeks.

 

She would blame it on the heat of the inn.

 

They climbed the stairs that led to the room they had rented, and Emma dropped the act.

 

“Take a few blankets.”

 

“Or we could share the bed.”

 

“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier?” Emma turned around to look at him over her shoulder.

 

“Right.” He laughed before someone knocked at the door, startling Emma. “Don’t worry.  I ordered a soup for you.” He explained to her.

 

Ania came into the room with a plate and a bowl of soup with a loaf of bread. Emma thanked her and told her to leave, not wanting to deal more with the woman or her desperate attempts to charm the pirate that shared Emma’s room. 

 

“That all?” Ania asked Hook with a hopeful smile, her accent thick.

 

“Yes Ania, that will be all thank you.”

 

Deceived, the woman left the room, clicking her heels against the floor and almost slamming the door.

 

“You’re sure you don’t want to go downstairs and enjoy-“

 

“Do you want me to?”

 

Emma shrugged and went to the bed; the property was not at its best but there was worse she thought. “Do you always answer a question with another?”

 

“Do you always avoid them?” Hook laughed as she attacked the meal, it wasn’t exactly what one could consider a good meal, but the hot liquid sat comfortably in her stomach and she felt like she could breathe normally now.

 

“Aren’t you hungry?”

 

“I ate before, eat your soup love, I won’t steal it from you.”

 

“Not that I would have let you.”

 

Once she was done eating, she put the plate on the table next to the bed, pausing in her movements as she stretched out of tiredness, Emma realized that there was no way for her to get undressed without letting Hook catch a glimpse; they were playing married and he couldn’t exactly wait outside.

 

There was no closet so no door to use, there were no curtains or anything ; this inn was a joke in its definition.  She decided to sleep in her clothes, wishing she had taken with her the shift that was on the Jolly Roger. But now was not the time for regrets, so Emma folded the cloak and placed it where a pillow should be.

 

Hook had started to make his bed on the floor and a pang of guilt tightened her chest.

 

“Maybe you should ask Ania for a chair?”

 

Hook shot her an amused look, his hand going back to his jacket that he had started unbuttoning. “Do not worry for me, I shall be fine.” He pushed off his shoulders the leather jacket revealing a black shirt with – obviously - a deep v-neck.

 

Emma swallowed tickly as she tried to busy herself with the laces of her boots, she was no innocent, it wasn’t the first time she was seeing a man half naked but the fact that Hook was doing it to play with her nerves was not helping her at all.  She lifted her chin up and looked at the display of tanned skin in front of her eyes. He was handsomely made and shaped, there was no point denying that, it was the truth.

 

He was scarred, proof that he had been into more than one battle, and not just as spectator behind his wheel while his crew was risking their lives.

 

Emma tried to keep an even breathing as he took off his shirt; hiding the contours of muscles and lines of his left arm was an important and heavy contraption made of leather. It was almost uncomfortable to see him showing her so much of himself – it was made on purpose of course, Hook was trying  to rile her up or to make her confess something.

 

Probably both.

 

Finally he laid down on the floor and out of her sight, a relief for Emma. She didn’t like to be played or forced into a banter that, if she did appreciate it at time, was getting on her nerves.  It wasn’t just Hook, it was Graham’s death that still felt like a hand wrapped around her neck and preventing the air from coming in. Then there was the altercation with one of Blackbeard’s men; it terrified her knowing that one of the most fearsome pirate captains was right now after her. He had a feud with Hook, not her, then why was he after her?  

 

Tomorrow they would make their entrance into Phillip’s castle; it had been a very long time since Emma had been there, what with the snow around the kingdom, and the danger that it represented to take a whole court across the sea or through the heavy and imposing forest that surrounded Phillip’s father’s kingdom. There had been plans a long time ago, or at least it had been proposed to both Phillip and her to conclude an arrangement.

 

Emma’s father hadn’t pushed her through to a marriage, he wouldn’t, as lost as he was, he had left it to her to decide. A few years later, Phillip had announced his wedding with a princess of the south Kingdom, Aurora.

 

Emma brought the covers over her body and tried to get comfortable, she was all too aware of Hook’s normal breathing – meaning he was not asleep either.

 

Closing her eyes, she tried to push away the image of the man coughing blood on her, his hands on her body and how his breath had fanned her face as he tried to threaten her. Would he have tried to do more than scare her, Emma would never know, but the uncertainty was under her skin like a bitter poison.

 

She brought her knees up and hugged herself, trying to find sleep, away from all the threats that felt like they were waiting to fall on her head.

 


	8. Soulless Coffin

The ride to the castle had taken quite an effort. Even if Emma was what one could consider an experienced rider, having to ride several kilometers on the back on a horse for hours wasn’t comfortable. Hook had rented or bought them – she hadn’t asked for more information, her eyes puffy with sleep and tiredness. She had not slept much that night, rolling over and over again in a lumpy bed that wasn’t the reason of her discomfort; it was more likely related to how Emma kept seeing the man who had assaulted her. The souvenir was too lively and vivid in her mind – like an incessant fire that wouldn’t stop burning no matter Emma’s efforts to chase the images out of her head.

 

A sleepless night had not made the ride any easier. Emma had not complained, following Hook’s lead, keeping to herself the questions that burned her lips as for how he managed to find his way through the forest and other roads he took. Only stopping a brief moment, Hook would consider which direction to take before urging his horse on without casting a single glance at her.

 

Since the beginning of this horse-riding, Hook had not talked to her, and Emma had even come to the point where she asked herself if he were aware of her presence.

 

The only proof of his consciousness to her presence was when they had made a stop four kilometers from the kingdom to let the horses eat and refresh before they went back at it; Hook had then offered her some water. However, his conversation could be summed up in a few “hum” and “aye”. Emma had been tempted for a moment to ask him what was wrong but she had to recognize she didn’t mind this quiet instant she had for herself to think.

 

To help her musings the rain had decided on its own to start falling in a quiet whisper, propitious to analyze him. He was obviously and ridiculously cross with her. Fine, Emma would leave him to it and try to focus on the mission. She knew him to be slightly unbalanced; little time on his ship had taught her what the man could be. Politely speaking, he was moody, more strongly said, he was an asshole. She had not known how much of one he could be until now.   

 

It was more than apparent to her that Hook was more than what met the eye; he had displayed a lot of manners to hide others, quite smartly Emma had to say, but not enough to fool her.

 

It stunk the way he had scanned her over and gave her what she believed was not a complete lecture of her persona, but one sufficiently complete to harm her ego. It had been right, it cost her to say so but it was the plain truth.

 

Emma knew she had something to prove to the world, to fix the injustices that had been done against her.  Her eyes shut tightly and her face blank, she swallowed the hatred that tainted her tongue with a bitter taste. Her nostrils flared as she forced the air into her lungs, letting the cold, wet and damp atmosphere surrounding them invade her. It felt relaxing, the powerful odor of eucalyptus opened her chest and brought to her attention the heavy weight that rested on her shoulders. She shrugged, trying to get rid of it but also to warm herself up.

 

It was strange how despite the rather clement weather Emma was shivering, her body frozen in the middle of a rough and merciless winter even though she could feel in her hair the sun’s soft touch from behind. Her covered fingers closed tightly around the reins to bring back some sensation to her hands - it was without much success.

 

Her eyes tried to catch the sight of the sun through the branches. Forced to shut her eyes because of the brightness of the star, Emma turned her attention back to the road, kicking her horse to the flank, she hurried him to follow Hook, even taking the lead and  trying to push the stormy thoughts in her head aside.

 

The castle finally started showing its shape from the edges of the trees and the sight that stood before her made Emma grip the reins firmly, forcing the horse to stop. The poor creature tried to fight, moving his head to lessen Emma’s hard grip.   A gentle pat on the animal’s neck, and Emma leaned forward to apologize before looking up again to the eerie sight.

 

The castle was the same as before, its conception had not changed since the last time Emma had travelled here. But a closer examination of the impressive chateau revealed that it was blacker than usual, not from the time passing but from a fire.

 

It was as if the flames had licked up their ways around the towers, crawling up to the highest one.

 

Emma swallowed the shock and tried to breathe – only realizing then she had held it in the first place.  The castle had been consumed by a devastating fire; the marks were strange, and Emma noticed that the bottom of the towers seemed untouched.

 

As if the fire had come from upward, from the skies and not from the ground.

 

What kind of fire had it been?

 

But evermore; how had her kingdom not been aware of the tragedy that had taken place in Fairmount - Phillip’s kingdom? Being allies, Phillip should have called out for help, ask them to assist them fight whatever danger had ravaged the once upon a time glorious and outstanding edifice.

 

“You know what happened?”

 

Hook was standing flank to flank with her horse now. It only took one look for Emma to understand from his bored expression that he was indeed aware of the events that had taken place here.

 

“Dragon. Fire. Castle partially destroyed.” He flicked his wrist, his gestures betraying his reluctance to communicate.

 

She bit her tongue to assert an acidic remark to his stupid behavior, but she concluded quickly that it would not do them any good to fight. He was onto something and had no interest sharing it with her, and to that, Emma was not even sure she cared enough to listen.

 

“When?”

 

“A certain time ago, the details are blurry to me.” He said as he pinched his nose, his features firmly tightened giving away the amount of pain he might be in. Emma’s eyes drifted from his face to his shoulder, taking in the tension of his body and his tightly clenched jaw. That would explain his mood and his behavior; he was in pain.

 

He must have felt her stare at him because he moved onto the conversation with a demeanor more elated. “I heard they were attacked quite badly by a dragon who was not really one, but ended up being a witch.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“I just know.”

 

Maybe it was better this way; she did not like to be reminded of what kind of man he was – not that she cared of what opinion she would form of the man at her side, but spending this journey would be easier if she knew less of his story because the less she knew, the less she had to close her eyes. That was the conclusion with which she had come up last night.

 

“Excuse me for asking you, princess,” he turned his upper body slightly toward her, his hook resting on his thigh as he looked down at her with an amused expression that did nothing to help the sentiment of anger that grew within her veins. “But how come you have never heard of this?” He gestured toward the castle, his tongue passing over his bottom lip and Emma saw him slip back to his own mask - the mocking pirate, careless, much different from the man who had taken care of her a couple of days ago.

 

“I was obviously not informed. I would bet my hand that the men of the council thought better not to tell the princess.” She articulated the last word with acidity, just as she tried to relax her fingers over the reins; her horse had nothing to do with this.

 

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

 

Emma stared at him, surprised by his words; they were unexpected that was for sure, and she considered her response  for a moment and added, “I’m sorry for the betting a hand, not the smartest thing to say with you.”

 

He waved at her, disregarding her apologies, “I would be a poor excuse for a pirate if I were one to flinch because of your words, love.”  There were hints of laughter in his voice and Emma managed a smile for him. Could it be actual fear that she detected under his bravado mask? Her guts told her to try to dig and find that detail and bits of him that could give her the upper hand. However, digging meant taking the risk to care, something she was not ready for, and remembering what she had told herself a while ago, Emma remained silent.

  

“Tell me what you know.”

 

They urged on their respective horses to a slow pace, staying side by side.

 

“The castle is not fully destroyed, only partially. I heard that the left wing has yet to be rebuilt. The village around it suffered the most; the dragon burned their farms and fields. Fairmount has been unable to fight her off until a few months ago, though it’s unknown how the dragon magically disappeared”, Hook’s dismissal should not bother her so much but to see him so carefree of the fate of those people put her teeth on edge.

 

He noticed her floating boiling anger because he dared to ask her why she was worked up this way. This time, Emma was careful enough not to grip her horse’s reins too firmly.

 

“The question isn’t why I care but why you are not.” She could barely contain how disappointed she was of his reaction and how tired she was of this back and forth; his moody temper was not something she was ready to put up with.

 

With her heels, Emma hurried her horse to continue down the road, wanting to go as far as it was possible to be from that man.

  

 

.

.

.

.

 

“Scared?” The pirate whispered in her ear as they stood in the middle of the hall, waiting for Phillip and his fiancé –  he was not married yet for all Emma had been aware of but she would not swear it on her life seeing how information had been forgotten and held back from her. The castle was also destroyed from the inside, she had seen as the guards had guided them here; a few rooms that had a long time ago gleamed with the magnificence of a glorious kingdom were ruined now.

 

In other words; this kingdom felt a lot like her own and they had not been given any help.

 

She sifted her weight from one foot to another, her shoulder blades knotted together after such a long ride, not made any better by the fact that they had been waiting for a while now. The guards did not flinch once as they stood straight, they also remained impossibly silent when Emma questioned them about how long it would take to be received.

 

“You’re sure your friend Ania sent the message?”

 

“Is that poison in your voice, Swan?” He walked around, a hand negligently hanging on his belt, “Or jealousy? Such a delicious poison yet-“

 

Emma rolled her eyes at his assumption and pinched her nose, breathing hard, “I’m only wondering if you got her to send  the message this freaking-“

 

“Her royalty the Princess Aurora of Fairmount!”

 

Emma turned around to see a woman, dressed in a heavy red silky dress that pooled at her feet, her shoulders covered with a shawl she readjusted. She still walked in that gracious way of hers that Emma had a long time ago, envied because required by the court. The princess did not even bother to give both Hook and her attention, at least not until she sat presently on her throne, her hands lifting the material of her dress properly over her knees.  

 

Aurora had grown up since the last time Emma and she had been in the same room; she looked resolute, her eyes wandering over them with a gravity that startled Emma, the princess not exactly known for her coldness.  Though they had not been known to be friendly acquaintances, as far as Emma’s memory went, they had always held each other in respect.  A feeling of belittlement washed over Emma at the sight of such richness in front of her, displayed with an arrogance that made her feel bad because of  the present state of her outfit. She doubted her hair was arranged for court.

 

“Princess Emma of Winterfield.”  Aurora’s pink lips moved sharply around the edges of her name, great disdain escaping each syllable.  Her thumb rolled the ring at her finger in an absentminded gesture.  Emma let her eyes focus on the motion, her brows held together as she turned her lips downward; there was no need and gain from being smart-mouthed now.

 

“Princess Aurora.” Emma bowed her head slightly, casting a pointed glance to Hook, asking him in silence not to act like an ass. Standoffishness would lead them nowhere. She understood by the look on his face that he did not like being asked to tame his behavior – of course the stubborn pirate that he was did not fancy the idea of being ruled by royalty, he had exposed his views well enough on that matter by his disgust for royals and his manners.

 

“I want to thank you for recei-“

 

“Guards.” Aurora cut Emma off in the middle of her sentence, two fingers held in the air gesturing toward them, “Take this fetid pirate to jail.”

 

“Wait!”  

 

Emma had to interpose herself to stop them from hurting him or at least try to explain something to Aurora but that was without counting on one of her men, a tall man who forced her to remain where she was and stopped each one of her movements. Two other  guards gripped Hook roughly, holding his hook away from them  when the pirate tried to fight  to get them off him, and they forced his arms painfully behind his back, forcing him down on his knees .

 

“Bugger off!”  Hook ground out, shoving a guard with his shoulder  only  to get kicked some more in the stomach, the air forced out of his lungs.

 

“Please!” Emma pleaded in a strained voice to Aurora who disregarded the scene, her eyes only staying on her and not the pirate currently being molested by a ruthless and wicked dark-haired man who was enjoying this way too much. Hook’s face was shoved to the floor, the guard standing over him with a foot on his back pushing him further into the ground.

 

“Aurora please listen to me!”

 

“Take him from the room.” Aurora continued with an even tone, cold and distant, “Leave us.” She added looking at the guards posted at the corners of the room in front of imposing doors . “I need to talk to the princess in private.”

 

Everyone in the room left, Hook dragged out on reluctant feet, pain twisting his expression. Emma only got time to spot the bloodied side of his right temple, his eyes closed with the shock of the guards’ treatment.

 

“What the hell are you thinking?” Emma’s blank face turned back to Aurora who was standing only two feet away from her now.  Her hands shook and she forced them to close into fists with her nails digging into the still bruised and scarred skin of her palms, which helped her to keep some calm in the situation. “He’s with me and he’s helping me. He came here as an ally.”

 

Aurora starred at her as if Emma had gone mad. Her expression clouded with judgment that Emma would have liked to have an opportunity to wipe off. “What ally?” Aurora gestured toward the door Hook had passed, “He’s a pirate. One that attacked my ships and ruined more of them than I can remember. He stole some of the food we had bought to feed the kingdom. He’s no ally to us.” She dismissed Emma by a regal wave of her hand.

 

“He’s an ally of mine.”

 

“Then you’re not ally to me.” Aurora said matter-of-factly, looking down on Emma with a disgust barely hidden by a quivering bottom lip. “You’re another enemy of the crown. You’re an enemy of Fairmount.”

 

Emma thought quickly; this was not how things were supposed to be and not what she had come for. She took one careful step forward, a hand extended to the Princess, “Please Aurora, I didn’t come here as an enemy. I’m merely here to ask for your kind help. You and I are not the best friends and I will not insult you by saying otherwise. But because of an old alliance between Fairmount and Winterfield, I ask for the right to talk to Phillip.“

 

Aurora considered her with a chiding look, and that the idea of throwing her to jail too passed through her mind was not lost on Emma, who waited with apprehension for the sentence.  The princess’ eyes had lost any inch of kindness they might have held a long time ago.

 

“Follow me.”

 

Having no other choice but to follow her, Emma walked with Aurora through a long corridor only made longer by the silence heaving upon them. Her attention went to the castle and its ornaments, the walls had lost their golden strands, all wealthy signs had been removed. A delicacy that Emma believed a lot of current nobles should appreciate considering the actual state of their world. Wealth was not well received, especially since the people were dying of cold when they were not dying of the absence of agriculture made even harder because of the rock-hard ground. The castle had gained an even scarier appearance after the fire; madness seemed to have ravished the surroundings. A cold- frozen shiver ran up and down Emma’s spine because she was feeling uncomfortable around the princess and her ghost-looking castle.  The air was chilly and made even worse by Aurora who tried to stride along and away from Emma.

 

They arrived in what looked like an apartment reserved to guests, only that there was no fire to decorate the room or at least raise the temperature of the chamber. But that was not the detail that stood out the most; in the middle of the room came into view a coffin made of glass, Phillip’s sleeping form in it.

 

Emma spun around to face Aurora, her features falling down, her mask crumbling at the sight of her lover lying before them.

 

“What happened?” Emma’s voice dropped a tone to become softer. She was even tempted to reach for her but doubted the gesture would be accepted.

 

“You heard about the dragon.” Emma nodded to that, Aurora stepping closer of the coffin, her hand caressing the glass, telling her tale, Aurora shifted from a foot to another. “A witch called Maleficent has an old vendetta against my family. You probably heard of it.”

 

She had, a long time ago though; Emma remembered a conversation or two with her father and one of his council members, but apart from what was told here and there, the tale was unknown to her. She had heard of the name Maleficent and recalled her father helping Aurora’s to fight her off their lands. The matter had been thought settled and resolved.

 

“Maleficent is not just a simple witch who can cook you a potion or give you a spell to enchant your lover. She is far more powerful than that and that must have been our fathers’ mistake; they underestimated her magic. She can-“ Aurora paused in an amazed moment where Emma believed her to be borderline mad for her features were filled with admiration for her foe. She saw in a glimpse of a moment how hard the events had been on Aurora, her body shaped with the horror of losing the man she loved.

 

“She can become whatever she desires, whatever she wants, just like that.” She flickered her wrist in the air, “Magic, powerful but so dark. She became a dragon, attacking the castle. We fought so hard. We fought and we lost so many of our own. I lost my father to her.”  The whimpers shook her body and Emma saw the cracks at the surface.

 

Her hands passed over the glass above Phillip’s face. “He gave up his life for all of us. His soul and hers locked into one, to take her down with him in between life and death.”

 

Finally, Aurora pivoted toward Emma, facing her with a rictus on her lips first before her expression hardened with anger. “We called - _we begged_ you for your help. You did _nothing._ ”

 

“I never got-“

 

“Stop talking!” Aurora yelled at her, the surprise actually forcing Emma to silence. “You did nothing to help us when we needed you, we received a message from your kingdom saying that you would not move to help. Phillip is dead because of you.” She took a step closer, challenging Emma with her eyes, lifting her chin up for Emma was a bit taller than she was.

 

“Do you know how it feels to have your heart taken away from you? To see him crumble at your feet without being able to do anything? He died to save us all because you couldn’t move from your throne!”

 

“I was not aware of it.” Emma bit between her lips sharply, trying to remain calm and diplomatic. Her hands were shaking with the need to throw a punch. She would not be accused of the actions of others. She had been refused information.

 

Aurora slammed her foot on the floor. “Liar! What would you know about love? Phillip had a crush on you since his boyhood and you always thought so highly of yourself.” She spit the words out with passion, her lips twisting as if they were poison. “You are selfish! You and your kingdom let an innocent man die.”  

 

Then, things went downward and Emma saw from the corner of her eyes Aurora resting her hand on a concealed dagger hanging at her waist, so she slapped her, not knowing what to do but for sure she was not going to be stabbed by a half-mad princess. The slap surprised her, Emma’s palm singed in pain, the skin cracking as Aurora  landed on the coffin, her hand covering her cheek.

 

“You have gone mad.”

 

She saw Aurora fall at the feet of the coffin, her hands folded on her rose knees, tears pearling in her eyes . “I’m sorry.” She keened, covering her mouth with a quivering hand, “I’m sorry. “ She shook her head, “I should not have said that.” She lifted her eyes to Emma, imploring. Never had she looked more like a child than now. Her bravado was like a mask – once gone, it revealed the ugly truth of a woman left with nothing to hold onto but a kingdom dying on her arms. ”Just why, _why_ didn’t you help us? Why did you not come to help us?” Her voice cracked in two,  quivering cries tightening  her throat so she was speaking higher than usual.  “I know you don’t like me much but-“

 

Emma helped her get up, a gentle hand on her shoulder, “I’m sorry for the slap.” She brushed the dirt off Aurora’s dress and tried to offer her a smile. “And I don’t hate you.”

 

“You don’t like me either.”

 

To that Emma had not much to say because it was partially truth; she had never appreciated Aurora for more than a royal figure who held a certain code Emma could appreciate. They had not been raised alike, and the animosity Aurora had displayed toward her because of her latent jealousy about Phillip had not helped Emma.  It was more the model the princess of Fairmount represented that Emma despised, not the person who wore the dress; her father’s council members would have preferred someone of the status of Aurora, easier to tame, easier to deal with. Typical princess that she was, Aurora matched the perfect etiquette where Emma was flying out of the law.

 

 They stared at each other for a while, holding each other’s stares before Aurora turned her face toward Phillip’s, closing her eyes. “I miss him. I don’t- I don’t know what to do without him.”

 

Emma flinched at the idea but did not comment - it would not be taken very well. She understood it though, the strange and supernatural link between two people; while  Emma could not say that she had experienced it, she had witnessed its destructive effects on her father - and now on Aurora. It was, to her eyes, weakness only.

 

When lost, love would bring you nothing but pain, sorrow, a weapon deadlier than any war ever started. All around her, fallen victims, her father, her mother, Aurora and even Hook from what she had gathered. She remembered a younger self, almost falling for this trap, almost giving in and giving up, before she had turned her back to the idea right before becoming aware of its nullity.  How fragile and untamable it was, how much of a trick it was.

 

She had come close to falling into this trap.

 

Once.

 

She swore to herself never to trust anyone when it came to love. Never hold onto promises that are only words thrown to the wind hanging up in the air like dust after a fire, about to fly away from you the moment you looked away.  Of course, this mindset was not one to share with the current grieving princess.

 

“I was not aware of my father ‘s decision, had I been in the know I would never have had you in such danger. Do you believe me?”

 

“Why didn’t they tell you?”

 

Emma closed her mouth.  Truth was she did not know and had no answer to that. She loathed the idea of bad-mouthing her father and his politics, but in this case, she did not have any other choice. “Believe me I will get the reason for them pushing me to the side. I know we are not at our strongest form right now, but we should have, only by duty, come to help an old friend.”

 

Aurora brushed a delicate hand over her face, trying to compose a more “royal” expression required by a heavy protocol. She looked over Phillip again, fingers pressed against her mouth before placing them on top of the coffin to leave a kiss there.

 

“What brought you here?”

 

“I have to retrieve a magical item that should help us change… I don’t know but pretty much everything of the current situation but for that I need you to free Hook.”

 

Aurora stared at her as if she had gone mad. “You realize you’re talking about a pirate.”

 

“I know how it looks like.” She actually had no precise idea of what it looked like but she guessed that for sure it didn’t look good.  “But he’s a… friend. One that I need to go back to the quest.”

 

“I don’t trust him. He’s a pirate, he attacks ships for a living!”

 

“Graham died.”

 

It had escaped her before she had had a chance to stop it, the words forming itself as she remembered all too well being in Hook’s cabin and his chest against which she found comfort. She remembered him beaten up and she found herself afraid for his condition.

 

“Emma I’m so sorry.” Aurora came closer to her and pressed a gentle hand between her own, smiling softly at her. “Did the pirate-“

 

“We were attacked. Pirates, enemies of Hook.” Emma babbled, not wanting to delve too much in the subject, her heart still held tightly in her chest as if a vice was around it. “He got stabbed. He died. I…” She breathed deeply, as a weight pressed down on her chest, guilt making it hard for her to breathe. “He wanted to get buried in the forest, I can’t have him back in the kingdom so I wanted to ask you if you would-“

 

“Sure.” Aurora asserted, looking back for Phillip, “I will make sure everything is done properly. I liked him.”

 

“I liked him too.”

 

An awkward silence took place between them, made only creepier by the lifeless body next to them. She felt awful for Phillip – he had had a crush on her a long time ago, hence Aurora’s temper toward her since then; the princes felt like there was a competition happening between them, which was a ridiculous thought if you asked Emma. Phillip had never stroke her as more than a friendly ally.

 

Another pang of guilt added to the one of Graham’s death. Her shoulders felt heavier.

 

“I need to talk to Hook, I need him.” She blinked as she tried to come up with a good way to put his importance for the quest, “He knows about the book of the seven seas more than I do, and he knows the thief.”

 

“He knows?”

 

“Let me talk to him.”

 

“I-“

 

“Aurora.” Emma took her hands and held them, “Please, I promise to you that he is needed to save Phillip, I will do everything I can to help you and bring him to you.” 

 

“Emma, he’s a pirate.”

 

Emma shook her head, speaking up with more fervor, “He’s more than a pirate, he’s a captain pirate who can cross the oceans faster than anyone else. He’s… He’s more than a guy who likes shiny stuff.“

 

Aurora withdrew for a few paces, watching Emma with incredulity. “There is more to this than what you’re telling me. “ Her expression changed into something hysterical, “You are involved with him!” Her mouth turned down into a grimace of disgust. “You are involved with a pirate?!”

 

“I am not!”

 

Emma was offended, her eyes rolling at the absurdity of the accusation, “Now this is just wrong. I have a mission to accomplish and he’s only  helping me retrieve the book. He’s helping, nothing more and I will not be insulted by you in such a way.”

 

She stood tall, proud and defiant like any queen should forcing Aurora to change her stand, eyes narrowed to slits as she considered.  “Let me talk to him.”

 

“Alright.” Aurora conceded, nodding to her. “You better come back from the cell with a true argument for his case, or I will bring him to the justice of my lands for his crimes.”

 

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The alley that led to the prison was infested by rats, guided by a guard, and Emma followed the man to the upper part of the castle; it was terribly hot in here, the heat suffocating as Emma looked into each cell trying  to spot the pirate. She ignored the remarks of some prisoners obviously lusting over the first woman they were seeing in weeks if not months. The state of those prisoners was deplorable, not that she would say their prisons were any better in that department, and Emma just hoped that Hook was alright though she believed him capable enough to handle anything.

 

Right?

 

“Ten minutes only.” The guard announced from behind her back.

 

“Hook?” She tried and got nothing but the laughter of a few stinky men at her right. She curved her mouth down at the odor around here, fighting the need to leave. “Hook?”

 

“Over here, lass.”

 

She pivoted to a small cell with barely any light in it, so it took her some time to distinguish the details of Hook’s shape before she finally made out his face as he stood up to come closer until she could see him.  Emma swayed at his sight, feeling her stomach curling in a knot. Part of her felt guilty for not being able to prevent this from happening to him.

 

“You’re alright?” She quickly scanned his face over, looking out for serious injuries; Emma spotted a cuts at his brow and bottom lip, a bloody nose and a bruise on his cheek.

 

“I will manage.” He nodded, his hand closing around the bar of the cell, calling out Emma’s eyes to his other arm, where his hook was not attached. Hook saw her staring and put on a grin on his bruised mouth – he had another bruise on the right side of his mouth, only making her angrier at those violent guards.  “These bloody bastards took my hook.” Hook said breezily, eyeing one of the guards behind Emma before bringing his attention back to her. “Came to save me, love?”

 

“I don’t have time for this.” She announced right away, her hands fumbling over each other, she made a mental note to get his hook back. The guard coughed, clearing his voice reminding her of the time passing by.  “We only have ten minutes. I need you to help me get you out of here, cooperation is needed from your part.”

 

“Is it now?”

 

“Hook please, I need you to tell me something that will convince Aurora to free you rather than drag your ass to justice.” She bit her lip as she tried to sooth her tone, knowing that he was not going to cooperate if she becomes intrusive and defensive.

 

Or she could challenge him.

 

“If you don’t help me, I will continue the journey without you.”

 

Her words seemed to strike him and he withdrew into the cell, “So you’re just going to walk away and leave me here to rot in this cell?” Now he sounded angry, a bitter laughter escaping him.

 

“I don’t want to leave you here.” It was not even a lie and she believed that the truth would speak up for her without her having to say more but Hook remained silent as if he were examining her words while avoiding her face.

 

“Why?”

 

“You didn’t let me down when Graham died.”  Like a puff of air the words exhaled out of her mouth and she pressed her head between the bars of the cell, trying to connect with him. “You didn’t leave me.” Emma’s eyes were tightly shut for a short second, not wanting to bring back the memory of any of those souvenirs.

 

“I didn’t.” He took the two steps separating them and forcing her to open her eyes. “Because you thought I would leave you to it?” His eyes were on her, judgmental – though Emma could not ignore how his expression had softened as he looked at her now.

 

He knew how it felt to lose someone, she had read between the lines before Hook had even told her so a while later. Something in him rang in her like an echo; she refused to see him but could not deny it.  “You promised me you would help me. You promised Graham.”

 

“You were supposed to be sleeping.”

 

“You and I both know I was not. Move on. Do you care so little about your life? Do your words mean nothing?”

 

It only hit her now how much it hurt her that he might be another liar in her life; someone who would promise words, words and nothing else. In the end, it meant that she was no more or no better than Aurora falling on the ground on the edge of madness. She had held onto something and she might have been idiotic enough to believe that there was someone she could actually trust.

 

The idea alone that Emma might have been stupid enough to trust him made her rage.

 

Hook was probably seeing the stormy thoughts in her head coloring her eyes with anger; he cocked his head to the side, a smirk on his lips. “I didn’t know my life was of royal values.”

 

“I can go without you and yet I won’t leave you behind. Except if you have a death wish.”

 

His answer came without Emma having to stir it out of him. He shook his head, “I don’t have a death wish.” Hook paused to consider his words. “There are worse things than death.”

 

“That is good to know, now how about you tell me something that can help us here?” Emma was losing patience now, all she could think of was how the clock was ringing in her head in an impossible staccato; she felt like she was dragging this situation and Hook was simply being a dead weight. She had seen him fight, she had seen him kill to protect his crew and to protect her even - he had released Blackbeard and let him go away for the likes of her.

 

Yet, nothing seemed to shake him enough to wake him up.

 

For a moment, she believed she was facing her own mother, heartless, soulless.

 

“We only have ten minutes, now is not the time for one of those woe is me moments Hook.” Realizing how rude she sounded, she adjusted her tone and her stance, leaning closer, “I don’t exactly know what happened to your loved ones, but they wouldn’t want this for you.”

 

“You know nothing of what they would want.”

 

“That’s what you think.” Emma bit back, enjoying the way his shoulders tensed at the mention of his family. “I don’t think that whoever this Milah was would like you to be dead. Dying this way would be quite the boring end for such a grand pirate.”

 

“I would never believe you to be such a fan of my delicate and dashing person.”

 

“You and I both now you’re not delicate. We only have ten minutes Hook.” She reminded him, pulling away as she put her hands on her hips.

 

He tilted his head down, smiling, “So still dashing to you, good to know, love.”  

 

“Whatever. Milah, the name on your tattoo, she is one of those who died isn’t she?” His answer was not needed for her point, so she did not wait, “Did she like those dashing looks of yours? Would she like-“

 

“Stop this.” Hook stopped her in a calm voice that surprised her by how cold and yet neutral it was, though the set of his jaw said otherwise about his self-control. “I have my plan to get out of there, no need to bring back my past – a past you know nothing about. I would rather not have you dirty her memory. ”

 

Emma’s hands reached for the bars firmly, her eyes sharp on him, “So you have no problem lecturing me around but when it’s time for you to get told about your cynicism it’s not right?”

 

“Not the same thing.”

 

“Bullshit.” Emma spit out. “If you think me pathetic for having hope but you’re just as pathetic for your lack of faith in anything. You’re cynical, you act like nothing matters but you and I both know you care more than you desire to show. ”

 

“You seem to have studied this through.” Hook gave her a pointed look, a hand on his belt, clapping his tongue against his cheek, “Quite charming to see such a royal as yourself take time to think me through.”

 

“That’s your problem Hook. You say royal with so much mockery and intend to insult me that I see through your game.”  

 

“Is that so?” His open mockery rolled off her like water; she was past caring for his gimmicks and his act. 

 

“You keep using my title or sweet pet names to avoid saying my name.” Emma spoke the next words slowly so she was sure of their impact. “Getting too close. You believe me to be afraid but what about you? You’re no different.”

 

His breath fanned her face as he stood so close to her, face set firm, his eyes holding hers intensely. “So you recognize you want me close.”

 

She knew what he was trying to do, using other innuendos to avoid the conversation. Yet, she would not recognize anything, not when her words would be misinterpreted - because they would for sure. “More like takes one lonely soul to know another.”

 

“Alright then,” Hook stood straighter, looking down at her, “Emma.”

 

“Hook.”

 

“Actually it’s Killian Jones. If I call you by your name, so should you.”  He said at least, his lips twitched and he raised his eyebrow in condescension. “I think it’s only fair.”

 

“Right. Killian.” She tried the name on the tip of her tongue, the word having a ring to it, the name strange and yet familiar. Emma articulated it with a challenging voice, meeting his mirrored piercing eyes.

 

“Emma.”

 

She nodded, suppressing the shiver that travelled up her back and spine. Being his normal self, Hook or _Killian,_ would take too much joy into catching her momentous reaction. Quickly she asked, adding in a wrapped and soft voice “Will you help me?” 

 

“I gave my word didn’t I?”

 

Emma couldn’t suppress the relief she felt at his words.

 

“Tell her Highness,” Here again with the disdain, Hook went back to a captain’s stand, not even realizing that it gave him royal manners, the irony probably – surely - lost to him. His thumb brushed the corner of his mouth because of the blood that dried up there. Emma mentally noted to herself to ask for care as soon she got him out of there. If she managed to convince Aurora. “That I know what the book can do. The prince is under a glass coffin right?”

 

Emma nodded.

 

“He made some reckless deal for the witch to die is that right?”

 

Again, she nodded.

 

“Tell her that the book is not a book, but a map and a guide to another world.” He did not wait for her to absorb the shock before he pursued, his attention constantly drawn to the ground, his hand closing around the bar above her own, the rings on his fingers clinging against the metal. “The world where the souls go after their death…” His pause was dramatic, calculated as his eyes came back to her, his voice raising to his typical tenor. “Or after a stupid deal like one soul for another.”

 

Emma’s mouth hung ridiculously open as she tried to make sense to his revelation. Not once she had thought that was the purpose of the book, she thought it to be some kind of key for her kingdom to rise from the dead. And as far as she was aware her kingdom had no soul per se and the book was of no use-

 

Unless the book was not a mission made to rescue her kingdom, but one to save her father’s wife. Horrified she stared at Hook with her hands holding on the bars of his cell. It was what she needed to free him – a solution to Phillip’s tragedy, but the realization of her father’s personal project, one he had not thought her truthful enough to share with her hit her hard.

 

To hell with the big heroic ideas, to the good form, all those were lies, made up concepts used to a personal end, one that Graham had died for, thinking he would save his kingdom and his king.

 

“Time’s up!” The guard who she had forgotten barked, his hand wrapping around her arm to drag her out of her tranceand pull her away from Hook.

 

.

.

.

.

 

 

Inertia was not something Emma had ever handled well. Staying in one place? Not likely of her, that had made Emma the nightmare of her nurses and why the big adventure that the ocean represented had always trilled her.

 

However, now she was forced to wait for Aurora to decide whether or not she would accept to free Hook. The princess had put back her cold mask and had not given away any kind of hints for Emma to weigh her decision. She was left waiting in the hall, waiting for a deranged princess to make her choice on what will come next. Of course, being alone meant Emma could think of the news she had learned but seeing what was at stake, she would rather not dwell on any kind of thoughts that would lead to a big storm.

 

She was not ready for this yet. Focusing on Hook - Killian, was the right thing to do. Once he was out (he had to come back from that cell), Emma would be able to ask some questions. Bastard had obviously hidden from her a lot of information.

 

It was becoming a regular pattern for people to hide tons of information – crucial ones - from her.

 

“Her highness Aurora of Fairmount!” The guard announced before Aurora made her entrance. Amusing enough, she had changed her outfit into something simpler, soft tones of lavender, and she seemed slightly different, less harsh or cold but still distant enough to make Emma doubt her verdict. The crown sitting on her head however reminded everyone in the room of her position. It felt like Aurora was putting her foot down and making sure the pirate would get the message of who he was talking to. 

 

Emma had a bad feeling about this.

 

Behind her, the doors of the hall opened with a loud wooden sound crackling in the air before letting Hook appear framed by two guards. They dropped him to the ground on his knees, his arms behind his back and Emma could only guess how they had managed to chain him up; it was only then that she noticed the  chains around his feet.

 

She turned around to shoot a dark glare at Aurora who ignored her.

 

“The princess of Winterfield here tells me that you have information that might interest the crown.”

 

“I talk better with a free hand and not when I’m chained like an animal.” Hook barked between tight lips.

 

Emma was about to talk when Aurora said louder with a commanding voice supposed to crush Hook’s under the weight of her position. “I will have you chained like the pirate you are. You are here because of your crimes against Fairmount.”

 

“I answer to no crown, no king, no princess.”

 

“Does my gender bother you?” Aurora groaned with a parched voice, her hand tightening around the edge  of her seat as she side-eyed the pirate getting to his feet.  “Does talking to a woman bother you?”

 

Hook eyed her scornfully, “I have no issue of any kind with your gender, I simply don’t answer to any crowned heads. Her other highness over there-” He pointed out to Emma with a motion of his head,      “told you right, I have information about Phillip.”

 

“Prince Phillip.” Aurora corrected.

 

“If you _desire_ my help, your Highness, you will have to let me talk.”

 

Emma wished they would both tone it down, and worse she felt excluded from the conversation, not knowing exactly what Hook had in mind; did he even realize he was making his case worse? The perspective of having to continue this journey without him scared her; he knew a lot about what was waiting for them.  She however did not.

 

No matter the state of the diplomatic relationship between Fairmount and Winterfield, Hook would not get a free pass and end in jail. Maybe he thought his crew would come to help him – Emma doubted that point; she did not believe anyone would come to his rescue. Things did not work that way. And if he believed her to have such a strong grip and influence on Aurora, he was wrong.

 

“Talk. Emma told me about a book.”

 

“We are on our way to a land that once reached, will allow us to free the soul of your loved prince.” Hook stated with a casual tone that would probably had Aurora trust him and Emma could breathe again because they would make it out of this mess that was eating up their time. “The book is a mere trinket that can assure the safety of Winterfield.”

 

He was lying to Aurora.

 

“What is that place?”

 

And Aurora was falling into the trap.

 

“Neverland.” Hook smiled widely.

 

 


	9. Pirate's log

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a legend wandering in the kingdom, about an old book, as old as the world, magical they say, a book that knows about what has been and what will be, a book so powerful it has the power to stop the war, to bring back the hope and the love, to bring back the sunflowers of Emma’s dreams to the kingdom. And maybe even the sea. Maybe even freedom. The book stolen, Emma and Hook are after it and after the death of their friend they try to recover and keep going. They arrive to Aurora’s kingdom and after a complicated deal with Aurora and a good beaten up for Hook, they are finally on their way back to the book.

Guards of the princess of Fairmont who were carrying goods and supplies walked over the deck of the Jolly with unsure feet. They eyed the crew with scornful stares, as if they were afraid that at any second, Hook might order his sailors to slice their throats or spill their guts on the deck.

Hook grinned; it was very unlikely to happen, he had only just now gotten the deck cleaned after his carpenter had finished fixing the mast – once again, thanks to the wood and different tools given by her highness. They had maneuvered the ship into the royal harbor – something Hook was not comfortable with but Emma had convinced him that it was the best way to get it done so they could go back to their journey as soon as the Jolly Roger was back on the planks.

“Captain.” Lancelot approached him, his eyes wandering around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping on their conversation.

Hook pointed to his cabin; it was night after all and the wind from the north, coming from Winterfield was as cold as a land covered by snow could be. He took place at his desk, not without wincing when the position reminded him of his bruised ribs. His hook was still missing, apparently the guards had not only beat him for no reason but a bastard with no name had believed it valuable enough to try to sell in a tavern.

So for now, he was using a filled glove to give the impression of a hand. So much for his moniker, even if no man on this ship had dared making a remark;, he hoped that he would find himself another one soon enough. The metal appendage had become too familiar and he felt almost vulnerable without it.

The emphasis being on the almost vulnerable. Even without the famous hook he was still the same pirate, the same Captain and the same man. 

Lancelot decided to remain standing rather than to sit down with him, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I did as you required, I kept an eye on proceedings and I can’t say my research was successful; I got very little information.”

“Little information is what I needed to sharpen my intuition; tell me what you learned.”

“Apparently the men went at the tavern together.”

Hook laughed, holding his belt as he did so, remembering too late about his ribs and reaching for the rum, his handless arm holding his chest as he did so. “That is not new, men go to taverns for alcohol and women.”

“I know.” Lancelot acknowledged, before resting his two hands on the desk, “However I find it quite suspicious to see some men coming back from the port with more coins in their pockets than before they left. There are stares that don’t lie, Captain.”

Coins? Hook reacted to that; there were no men on his ship who would come back with even fuller pockets than before a trip to the closest tavern, which meant only one thing; an exchange had been made, a man had been paid. “Who?” 

“Carter and McLaghan have my full attention so far.” 

“Carter is a kid.” Hook noted, his brows knotted together; his gut was telling him that this was no good. He got up and walked around the cabin, stopping by the little shelf of books he had, eyes quickly scanning over the titles.

“All the more impressionable; it is easier to pay a kid than an older man. Their allegiance is easier to break.” 

Indeed it was easier, Hook mused, rubbing his mouth with an angry hand because such fuss was dangerous; stuck on the ship, men could get worked up, like a spark in a barrel of explosive powder. Hook needed to find out who was stirring trouble on the Jolly Roger before his position was put in jeopardy. He drank a long sip of the rum, appreciating the burn in his throat, familiar and better than the fire of a home – or a castle. 

They had a spy, possibly several aboard the ship.

“Keep an eye open.” Hook spoke in a quiet voice that tried not to give away his worry over this case. “And Lancelot-“ He called after his second mate who was making his way out of his cabin. Good as he was, Lancelot spun around, “I’m glad that your allegiance is not so easily bought.” 

“It would take a lot more than a few coins to buy me, my Captain.”

Hook arched a brow at his comment, he knew that, of course; there were few men on this ship that he trusted more than he did Lancelot, whose background as an ex-soldier of the army made him that much more trustworthy. In a way, there was a lot in Lancelot that Hook could remember being once upon a time.

The memory was old and not desired, so he shook his head to chase it away, sitting on his bed. "Everyone has a price Lancelot, if-" He groaned as he tried to breathe through the pain, it seemed that no position was suitable for his ribs. "If there is one thing I learned from all those bumpy adventures on these stormy seas, it's that everyone has a price."

"Is this your way to ask for mine?"

Smiling was the only thing he could do right now, laughter being out of reach, but he tried to put on his best face as he spoke, using his commanding voice. "It isn't, for I am not sure I want to know how much your loyalty cost."

"I think you can rest reassured, Captain, my cost is a cost none of us can afford to pay."

 

Lancelot paused yet again and plunged a hand in the satchel he carried on his hip, "Emma gave me this for you."

The Swan girl was still on land, waiting for the funeral of her friend to be over, a ceremony Hook had not wanted to be a part of. He had given his goodbyes to his old friend and a part of him doubted the princess wanted him around. 

Lancelot dropped the metallic appendage on the desk.

"She thought you'd be pleased to have it back. Apparently she challenged the Queen to give it back. Something about her Majesty wanting to keep it for herself like a trophy."

Hook groaned. Bloody royals. The bunch of them, bloody royals who thought so high of themselves. His fingers traced the curve of his hook, the metal cool and familiar in his hand. Like an old friend. 

He gritted his teeth and put it back on.

.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

Her jaw was set tight as they ate in a perfect silence, the weight of his lies and her tiredness surrounding them in an impossibly daft wordless conversation, heavy to the point that neither of them dared to say something to break it. They had just gone for the big sea and Emma was already missing the feeling of dry and stable land under her feet. 

At the menu today, Smee had tried to do his best, Emma could note that in the presentation of the fish – of course fish - with a portion of rice set in a way that was apparently supposed to look like a flower. Earlier that day Smee had been something of a child, happy to be able to offer them tomatoes with lunch, a rare vegetable aboard the Jolly Roger, a smile full of excitement on his face as he set the plates on the table. 

Emma on the other hand, felt quite out of her depth, no matter how touching was Smee’s excitation, she was lost at sea and confused to the point where North and South were mingled together in her mind.

“You lied to Aurora.” Emma finally brought the matter up, setting her fork on the table, eyeing Hook from the side.

“Who’s Aurora?” A very drunk Victor asked, completely relaxed in his seat, a leg thrown over the arm of his chair.

“Go back to your cabin, Victor, you’re dismissed.” Hook ordered in a commanding voice, not looking at the physician. 

Victor glared at him over his glass of wine, a grimace twisting the expression on his face but he did not move.

“Do you need me to repeat myself, Doctor?” 

Raising his hands and glass up, Victor’s eyes widened in a comical effect, the man got up and even winked at Emma. If Hook noticed, which Emma found unlikely, seeing how drink and obvious the physician was being, he did not make any comment. Once finally alone, the same silence, even more awkward now that the only sound they could hear was coming from the drunk sailors on the deck, cheering when they saw their fellow doctor joining them.

“Where’s Lancelot?” Emma asked out of the blue, the need to fill the air with conversation before getting back to the hot topic making her speak up more than an actual curiosity. While the ex-ally of her parents could be taken as a friendly figure aboard, there was something about him and his admiration for her mother that unsettled Emma. 

A topic she was not eager to find more about.

Hook poured himself another glass of wine and moved to do the same with her own but Emma declined, placing her hand over her glass. “He’s taking care of something for me.”

“And what’s that?”

“My crew, my ship, my second mate, my business.” He smiled wickedly at her.

“Alright then, now tell me why you lied to Aurora.” 

Setting his glass back onto the table, the tip of his hook digging into the table regardless of the damages it was causing. To her surprise, his fingers wrapped around the brace and if at first she saw in that gesture a sign of discomfort, Hook actually took it off, unscrewing it off the brace. The process was fascinating, and she knew for the few words he had spoken on the subject, that it meant he was in pain. 

It was obvious no matter how hard he tried to put on a full mask.

Now that the hook was before her, Emma did not back down, not letting his little play disturb her.

“Why did you lie?”

“An omission, that’s all; we don’t need a widow in our way.” The tone he used to simply state her situation was devoid of any human compassion, and because of those simple words, it hit Emma hard how low he thought of Aurora, and how he despised her.

“She just lost the love of her life.”

“She’s brooding over her misfortune.” He set an elbow on the table, learning in to take a few grapes and making them roll between his thumb and index finger. “She stays in her ivory tower, ruling a dying kingdom she can’t even look at. She makes decisions for a country she doesn’t know.”

Emma could not believe her ears. “She is mourning.”

He popped a grape in his mouth, not even casting a look at her, “So is your father.”

The blow was low. “That’s not-“, Emma started but found herself unable to defend her own father.

He had been mourning for more than twenty years now, and he let his kingdom die for just as long.

It hurt to let Hook be right about that one, hurt to see how wrong her father was and how wronged she had been. Hook was right about royals. 

Selfish.

Cunning.

Self-centered.

All of them, putting their needs first-

Anger ran in her blood, and she closed her eyes for a few seconds and tried to swallow the lump that tightened her throat – now that it was there, anger cramped her system, adding to the bitterness she carried every day; it would never stop.

Then she looked back at Hook and although she only had two drinks or maybe four since the beginning of the dinner, what she saw was crystal clear in her mind. She adopted the same stance he had taken, sharpening her voice.

“You believe to be so much better than anyone else.” She started, paused and once sure of her effect, the words making him shift slightly, Emma got up and in her haste, grabbed the closest thing that came under her hand - a bottle of wine they had been drinking - and smashed it against the wall. “You’re just - you’re just so full of yourself!”

To his credit, Hook did not even bat a lash, merely expressing boredom.

Not at all disturbed by her anger, he pointed to the door with an amused smirk on his face, “They are going to believe you and I are engaged in passiona-“

“Oh shut the hell up.” Emma rolled her eyes, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “You’re just a liar in power, you’re just lying to everyone around and hoping for what, the best?” Her hands were shaking, anger taking over, and thank God there was no other bottle on the table that might fall under her hand. “You go around lecturing people acting like you know best but-“ Her voice broke as the air seemed to refuse to enter her lungs, so she stopped, forcing a deep breath in while his eyes and hers locked, challenging each other.

Hook’s piercing stare did not waver, not once, and then he moved quite swiftly, hooking two fingers in his vest and starting to unbutton it with an expert hand. Puzzled, Emma was not sure if that was her cue to leave but seeing how this seemed to be yet another of his challenges, Emma did not back down. 

Each button coming loose had her heart beat a bit faster - not in the way a romantic heroine would in one of those books Joanna praised so much and Emma despised, but in the way of an intruder would feel when intruding on one’s intimacy.

He was not the first man she saw shirtless but the state of their relationship made it all more intimate. She was no imbecile; denying the tension that stood between them would not make any sense and would prove to be rather pointless - a loss of time. Since day one there had been an attraction and part of her discomfort was linked to the pull she felt toward him.

A glimmer in his eyes spoke louder than his face did – so neutral when his gaze made a point to be this intense to unsettle her, waiting for her reaction, scanning each frown on her face. His whole act was not meant to have him bare himself to her, or to be vulnerable for that matter.

Hook revealed a shoulder made prisoner of a complicated leather contraption that kept his arm in different braces that cut him – hence the ointment he carried with him. The scars if they could be considered as such looked more like burns, something Emma was capable to make out only once he took a step forward in her direction. His hand rested in the crook of his elbow before he let his arms hang at his side, allowing her to take an eyeful on his body.

“As you can see, Swan, I’m not a man of wisdom; if I were, my hand would be attached to my arm, which is not the case anymore.“ He held his stump up, still covered by a metal bracelet to hide the ugliest scar of them all. Emma’s attention was still on his whole shoulder - quite taken by the impressive contraption. 

The demonstration stunk with his usual arrogance, trying to get her to back off and run away from the atmosphere he had installed in his cabins. 

Her eyes scanned his chest, taking in every detail she could make out; the tattoos on his breast, under the heart, three crosses and also an inscription on the right, under the collarbone, something she did not understand and did not have time to get to before he continued.

“Are my dashing looks that impressive that you are under my spell incapable to form words?”

Emma then gave him her back, going for the closet where she knew he kept the alcohol - a bottle with a label almost impossible to read. Seeing how old and dusty it was, the lack of information was welcome. Behind her, a low chuckle could be heard, along with the sound of clothes being folded or unfolded. Apparently his little act was done and Emma could pour herself a glass of the discovered beverage in peace.

As she went back the dining table, Hook was buttoning up his vest as fast as he had undone it.

“I know you have a poor opinion of my person, my rank and my title but all that bravado, all those words, the smooth-talker that you are… in the end I still see you for who you are; just a man who lost too much.” She bit each word sharply as the alcohol settled in her stomach with a warm burn that was rather comforting. 

He deflected her words with a slight tilt of the head, his thumb grazing the line of his bottom lip, deliberately of course; the man was too obvious for her taste.

“And what a man indeed.” He laughed.

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“Not necessarily.”

Hook reached over the table for the bottle, using a glass on the desk without caring who might have used it. “But you have to recognize that from this angle, life is much more enjoyable, Swan.”

“You mean looking at it when you’re heartless?”

He looked down, holding the glass in his palm as if he was trying the rum like he would appreciate a bottle of fine grand wine. Still not looking at her, he spoke in a low and rough voice. “I’m not your mother.”

“Don’t talk to me about her.”

Finally he looked her in the eyes, his stare shaded by an emotion – could that be regret? Emma did not know if she wanted to know or if, for that matter, she cared to know. The topic of her nonexistent mother was a painful one she barely wanted to address in general and even less with someone like Hook.

“Somehow you expect me to treat you like everyone else did your whole life.” He sank deeper in his chair, the tip of his tongue pressed against the arc of his bottom lip. His index finger trailing the edge of his glass, he continued. “You expect me to treat you in a certain way while asking me to recognize you for who are you.”

“And who would that be?” Emma tried to keep on smiling.

“You tell me, love. As I explained, I can’t be considered a man of wisdom.”

“And yet, wouldn’t you like to brag about how you know me and can see right through me?” 

Surprisingly enough, Emma was relaxing, the banter going back to something lighter and easier to deal with. Or maybe it was just the rum sinking that fast and passing through her blood. 

“Actually-“ Hook straightened so he could place his elbows on his knees. “I think you’re just all about bravado as I am. But more than myself telling you who you are, I’m intrigued to know who you think you are, Emma.” 

Emma thought about her answer, quite taken aback by his words, the process not made any easier by her current dizzy state. 

“Take off your shirt.”

At least, her remark made him choke on his wine, before he quickly recovered with a hasty laugh. “Already asking for more?”

“I’m not asking, I’m ordering you.” Emma grinned, looking through her satchel, pretty sure that she still had the ointment Aurora had offered her before they left. “Do not expect me to beg you.” 

“They all say that.” She didn’t even need to turn around to know he was smiling. “But there’s a before and an after my bed.”

“I’m not interested.” The delicate box now on the table, Emma pointed to his shirt with her chin. “Shirt off, Hook. Now.” 

And so he executed the order, not even saying a word, just getting rid of his shirt in a matter of seconds.

The idea of asking him to take off the whole contraption did cross her mind; Emma contemplated the thought but did not dare. She was almost sure of his answer. “Sit back.” She instructed him before realizing it would not work that way. “Get up actually.”

To her relief, Hook remained silent the whole time and simply did as she asked. Scanning him over, Emma tried to decide where to start. Several bruises covered his body and Victor the physician had already cleaned him up and took care of the major wounds. 

“You are not holding your part of the bargain.”

Oh right. The bargain.

“You promised me honesty, Hook.” Emma stressed his moniker between her teeth, infusing as much disdain as she could, rotating to reach for a piece of cloth. She moistened it with a pinch of water and carefully applied the cloth to his shoulder, covered with bruises gracefully made by Aurora’s guards.

“I don’t remember lying to you.”

“How could I know what’s a lie and what’s the truth. You told me one thing in the cell and then you said another.”

“I know a few things and I don’t think Aurora needs to know about that.” 

He stopped her hand, gentle fingers closing around her wrist that Hook lifted to his eyes, palm open. “Your hands are in a better shape but you should take care of them if you don’t want to have a scar.”

Emma smiled. “Since when scars are a problem to you?” Her attention was drawn to a scar, sharp and thin, situated on his left breast. Probably made by a sword in one of the many fights that took place on the Jolly Roger.

“Talking like a real pirate.”

“Don’t get ideas.”

They shared the joke together in silence, Emma taking the box in her hand and untwisting the cap, the smell of herbs harsh to the nose. “Can you take it off?” She gestured to his shoulder because there was no way she could take care of his wounds if he kept wearing the leather contraption. 

Emma was aware of what she was asking; too much.

While he had stripped for her in order to impress her, now she was asking for the same thing, except it was about vulnerability this time, not showing off.

But after all, she was asking for a fair fight since he kept scaling her walls and making her feel vulnerable under his piercing and too understanding stare; he had seen her crying, he had seen at her lowest. It was quite the challenge she gave him; one she thought would need another request but Hook nodded with an almost imperceptible movement of his head. 

Breathing through his nose, he finally spoke. “There’s a buckle on my chest. Start with it and the rest should follow.” 

Not trusting her voice, Emma did as she was told, avoiding most of eyes contact with him but unable to avoid touching his skin. The leather was imprisoning his arm in a tight vice, and took on the exact shape of his body. Once she got his whole arm freed of the straps, the leather set on the table, Emma took in the damages made from such a rough but necessary treatment; the skin of his arm was covered with rashes, almost reaching the point of drawing blood, and although the difference between his arms was slight, his handless one was still a bit smaller than the other.

Under her gaze, Hook shifted.

“Get on with it, Emma.”

It was not lost to her that he had given up his usual bravado for a more honest conversation, and she appreciated it. With two fingers, she took a bit of the cream and applied it generously to his skin, her mind currently debating on what she should say next.

He had made a move, now it was her turn.

“My father lied to me.” 

Hook looked up to her and she knew she had his whole attention. 

“Him, the council, they all lied to me on purpose, they backed me into a corner when Phillip was in danger.”

Hook arched a curious brow. “An old beau of yours?”

Emma sighted, keeping herself busy with her task, continuing to apply the balm to his wound, adding more cream where the skin was the most damaged. She did it carefully, not sure of the pressure and how it might hurt him when her fingers touched the rashes. “Not really; he’s a childhood friend of mine. Though I believe him to have developed a few feelings for me over time.”

“Feelings not returned.” 

It was not a question and something in his tone gave her the impression that he was not just talking about Phillip.

“I’m not heartless.”

“It would take a foolish man to believe you are.”

Her eyes met his, her fingertips brushed and burned when they trailed over his forearm. A smile, tentative at first, grew wider. “Is this going to be another one of your lectures?”

“You are quite the open book love, but that doesn’t mean you are not a fascinating person.”

His words made her pause, her hand resting on his shoulder where most of the damage could be found. “Are you flirting with me?”

The thought alone was amusing enough to keep the grin on her face.

“The day I start courting you, Emma”, he made sure to roll her name in a suave accent, his eyes darkening, his expression set tight and meant to create a deep reaction under her skin. 

She shivered. He leaned in slightly.

“When I court you, Swan, you will know.”

“Will you send me notice?” Emma answered in the same tone, tilting her head to the side. She was too aware of the alcohol buzzing in her head and making her bolder, lighter - a welcome sensation.

He smiled, his breath fanning her face as he nodded. “Believe me, you’ll know.” 

The tension getting a bit too much for her, Emma laughed. “You are so full of yourself and so sure of your charms.”

His hand covered hers, his palm warm, his fingers calloused with the hard work on the ship and hours of holding the helm. Curiously enough, Emma started wondering how old he might be; was he her age? Probably older, the many scars on his body told the story of a man who had been through a lot, and she did not even want to think of the ones not so visible. 

Yet, could you count the pain one had endured in their lives on the scars on their body? And even if she could, what would she do with them? Map them out like a chart on Hook’s desk? Compare them to hers and see who was right and who was wrong? 

Or maybe alcohol was talking.

“Your hand is trembling love. I would say my charms are working just fine.”

Instinctively, Emma pulled away and Hook breathed out; something was broken, the balance somehow disturbed because what had just transpired, and her hand felt burned in a rather similar way to the one she experienced while taking a bath. Whatever happened between them was hard to describe and neither of them was eager to define their... alliance, she guessed.

“I am sorry for what happened and what was done by your kingdom behind your back.” He pulled away enough to get out of her personal space and walked around the cabin, putting an end to that session of nursing, stopping in front of his closet and looking for a shirt.

Of course the choice came to a black shirt and another black shirt.

“We might not share the same views of the world, or in that case, royals, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy your current distress.”

Emma swallowed thickly. “Not going to give me the I told you so?” A heartbeat missed, she added. “I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“I have never been one to enjoy bragging over an I told you so.” He started dressing up, “And by the way, Swan, your current stare or distress doesn’t make you weak; your capacity to react and survive the event defines your strength.”

“You consider yourself to be strong?” She hated the way her voice sounded, too weak and uncertain. Alcohol was definitely not doing her any good today and she couldn’t remember the last time she had been this unsettled by a beverage.

“I would not be a captain on this ship, a ship full of pirates ready to take my place and cut my throat if I did not believe in my strength.” He sat down on his bed, not bothering with the buttons of his shirt. “Strength doesn’t mean arrogance. Just like you should not mistake arrogance for confidence. The first comes from idiots and the last is known by a well-aware men.”

“A strong man then.”

“The way you are, just as strong as you are despite your current distress.”

Emma cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at him. “Would you go as far as implying that you are capable of getting lost at sea or being an actual damsel in distress?”

Hook chuckled, the sound low and slightly muffled by his hand as he rubbed his scruff. He went for another drink, pouring himself a generous quantity of alcohol. There was definitely something impressive about his capacity to drink without being a tiny bit tipsy.

“Even if I were, which is by no means a confession, I would be a careless man to reveal such weaknesses to you.”

Emma had now regained her seat, and seeing the turn of the conversation, she felt like she could relax. If they were going philosophical today, she did not fancy standing up. Her mind was agitated but there was a kind of comfort in talking to him, quite the change of events from the beginning of the night. An understanding with someone who could be considered a kindred spirit.

Or again, alcohol could be blamed.

Whatever.

A rictus curled her lips upward at the use of such a qualifier for Hook. Kind was not the right word to describe him, though it would be an insult at the same time to think of him as a heartless man. There was in him a capacity to express an inch of kindness.

That untied her tongue and she continued to confide in him.

“My father lied to me though and you could very much give me a bit of “I told you so.” She gripped the bottle, drinking the alcohol straight from it. “You won this argument, you were right, royals are rotten to the core. They think of themselves first. Graham-“ She breathed in, closing her eyes shut, “Graham died for my father’s personal quest. You have every right and reason to refuse to share your information with Aurora.”

With his tongue pressed against his cheek, Hook considered her. “I find no joy in your distress; it doesn’t matter if I was right, and while I never doubted it, I’m sorry you had to realize it this way.“

“Yet, you wouldn’t like to be wrong.”

“I have my beliefs and reasons to loathe royals and the way our monarchs govern.”

“That’s why you lied to Aurora.” She paused, making sure their stares were locked together. ”And me.”

“I did hide information from the Princess. I do not trust royals with such important secrets.” Hook rose from his spot and Emma thought he was going for the bottle but he reached for the ointment on the table and gestured at her hands.

“I did not lie to you, Emma.” Hook leaned against the table, taking her hand and starting to apply the cream to her scarred palm, much like she had done before. Emma let out a breath of relief, the cream more than welcome on her too-dry skin. It occurred to her that not once Hook had asked her about the origins of her burns, and she was glad he had not; the last thing she wanted was people to look at her like she was a mad person.

“You were not honest.”

“I did not lie; I was and I have always been honest with you.” He paused for a moment, scanning her face seeking something in her expression. Emma did not shift under his stare, holding his eyes. He dropped his gaze first, sighing and rolling his shoulders back. “What I know of the Book of the Seven Seas.” The name as ceremonial as it sounded actually passed for a joke when he spoke it. “Is what Cora told me, the one who tried to have me killed in Winterfield”, Hook answered her silent question. “That and I have something else in my possession.”

“What is it?”

For a moment Emma thought he would not tell her anything, judging by the way he tensed.

“I have in my possession a log that specifically talks about the item we are after. It has details about where we can find it.”

“But it’s been stolen from us.”

“I do not believe so.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a reason to believe that the book Graham stole was not the right one. Cora is in possession of a copy of the book. A bad one.”

His words felt like an icy rain falling over her, “What?” She tried to force herself to keep her voice even; she did not want to think about the consequences it had had. She did not want to hear the word Graham, not now. And funny as it could be, all alcohol seemed to have evaporated from her body. “What did you just say?”

“The book that was delivered to your court was a pale copy of the real one.” 

Her hand, trembling, covered her mouth as she took in everything. Emma did not know where her father had gotten the information and how the book was supposed to save his wife for that matter. Now that she was in possession of more details, questioning her father’s sanity seemed the right thing to do. How could he have launched an expedition to get an unknown book without caring for the blood that could be shed? Emma had an idea of how fucked up the situation was but this was a whole new brand of information that lessened her father in her eyes: he was no better than those villains he and his wife had fought before Emma's birth. 

Hook let her to it to grab a book from his library, handing it to her. “I don't normally share this with anyone. It's my brother's log.” 

Emma stared at him, receiving the book he handed her. It was old, carefully manufactured, heavy and covered by leather. It felt precious under her fingertips and she tucked it on her lap and looked up at Hook. “Thank you. For sharing this with me.”

“Read it and tell me what you think.” He nodded simply. “Do not share it with anyone else. Aside from you, nobody knows about its existence.”

“You share it with me? I’m a royal though.” Sarcasm filled her and sharpened the edges of her voice. 

“You are quite the lass and far more than a crowned head.” His teeth glimmered when he grinned.

“Who am I, then?”

He continued to take care of her hands, leaving them only to get a cloth to bandage her palms. “Now, now, I wouldn’t venture so far as to presume to know who you are.” Hook stopped briefly as he took the cloth between his teeth to tighten it around her hands before he set the gloves on the table for her to take. 

“I think I will take it as a compliment. Even if the protocol would indicate to me that it’s an insult.”

Hook, who had taken his glass back in his hand raised it as if he was giving a toast. “That’s more like it. Far more enjoyable.”

“You don’t exactly strike me as shy nor prudent, so why not risking it?”

“Indeed neither fit me well.” He acceded, eyes briefly scanning her face. “Yet I would not put myself into those troubled waters.”

The teasing was far too tempting to refuse. “Not worthy of a captain?”

Hook leaned over, his face a breath away from her. His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Make no mistake, Emma I fear no sea nor ocean, but when it comes to you, I would rather have you make the call and lead the dance than assuming anything about you. We would not want you to feel coaxed into something you don’t agree with.”

Emma, with the alcohol helping, smiled at him, the words ringing in her head. “So you are flirting with me.”

His tongue flickered over his bottom lip, far too long for it to be innocent. “Told you, you would know it.” The gloves still on the table, Emma reached for them but Hook set his hand on hers, his thumb brushing over the center of her palm, through the bandage. Leaning even closer, Hook almost set his forehead against hers, letting her close the distance if she desired so.

And so she did, nuzzling his nose with her own, her attention drawn to his full lips. A hand on the log, Emma whispered. “I should go back to my cabin.”

Hook’s fingertips brushed against her temple, light and gentle though he transferred some cream on her skin. “Afraid that the alcohol is getting the best of you?” 

“I'm not so easily bested.” Emma swayed slightly against him, the tip of her nose pressed to his cheek as she smirked with closed eyes.” But I’m the prudent kind.”

“You’re scared.”

Emma finally broke away. “I just know better.”

“Afraid.” He challenged her, following her with his eyes as she walked around the cabin to pick up her cloak and satchel, the log under her arm. 

“I’m not afraid of you. I just know where my interests are.” She hardened her voice, firmly stating her position. “If you are looking for a good tumble, any wench at the tavern would do.”

Hook laughed, opened his mouth to say something but stopped when Emma cut him off.

“Who was your father?”

She was not sure what she expected from him at that instant but the fact that this single question was enough to disturb him was gratifying. Obviously tonight they had pushed each other until one of them was backed up in a corner; there was a purple stain on the wall to testify of that, and for once she was happy she had trapped him.

Hook first pretended he had not heard her. He chewed a sip of rum and spoke, looking at the shattered glass on the floor rather than at her. “That’s a conversation for another day. Replace that bottle and I might tell you the tale. I think you have enough with my brother's log for tonight.” 

That was her cue to leave and she took it. 

Emma nodded and turned around.

"Swan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for the hook."

.  
.  
.  
.  
.

 

“Princess!” A toothless sailor chanted. “Join us, my pretty!”

Emma shook her head and ignored them, running into Smee who was quite in a hurry, his nose reddened by the amount of alcohol he had drank tonight. His eyes were on her beverage at first before quickly switching up to her eyes, his expression apologetic. “Oh missy.”

“Good evening Mr. Smee.”

He bowed to her, his cheeks reddening more if it was even possible. “I apologize.” Yet his eyes still could not find her face.

Emma crossed her arms on her chest, the book in her left hand, hidden from Smee's sight. “Where are you going?” She eyed the crew behind him. “Shouldn't you be celebrating with the others?” Her voice came in a shiver that she would rather suppress but it seemed her encounter with Hook had left her quite breathless. 

“The captain needs water so I'm bringing water.” Smee explained, “He's a clean man, our Captain, unlike all the others.” He looked behind him and frowned. 

Emma laughed in a low chuckle. She remembered a conversation she had had with the said Captain about the sailor standing before her. “You must have known quite the share of captains, Smee. Didn’t you?”

Smee’s cheeks reddened with a darker shade that was not due to alcohol. “That I did, missy.” 

“Your captain told me you have served Blackbeard.” 

The name was enough to send Smee into an ocean of terror, his forehead sweating as the color of his cheeks spread to his whole face. “Aye I did missy.” 

“What happened?”

Smee lowered his eyes to the deck, "I was on the Captain Blackbeard’s ship before missy, but it is not a pretty tale for a pretty lady."

The expression in his eyes spoke loudly of the gruesome story.

"He's not a good man, Captain Blackbeard." His attention was now on his gloved hands that matched her own. 

"Captain Hook is fearless and a fearsome captain but he treats us well." Smee added in a haste.

"Blackbeard did something to your hands, didn't he?" 

"Aye Missy, not a pretty tale for pretty ears." 

"You can talk, Smee, I am interested in your story." Emma's eyes went to the crew behind him, too busy drinking and getting wasted to listen to what they were saying. "Look." She pinched off one of her gloves, showing the sailor her burned palm. "I hurt myself the other day while taking a bath."

Smee's eyes softened at the sight, his own gloves now in his right hand as he showed her his. Compared to Emma's palm, Smee's was far more damaged than hers. The skin had melted and healed into new wrinkles, new lines that looked unnatural. It stretched almost painfully and for good measure, Smee closed and opened his hand.

"It doesn't hurt missy, do not worry."

Emma gave him a wry smile, "He did that to you didn't he?"

"Aye, he did." Smee looked away and put on the gloves again, hiding his hands behind his back. "Captain Blackbeard is a cruel man, missy, you do not want to disobey or displease him."

"What did you do to have him punish you? I can't think of anything-"

"I flirted with a woman he thought his, and he got so angry, missy, so angry, made me hold his sword after he had put the blade in the fire." He lowered his eyes, his voice a whisper, "Said I was never to touch anything of his ever again." 

"I'm sorry, Smee."

The sailor forced a smile, standing straight like a good knight.

"Don't worry for me missy. They don't hurt anymore. Doctor Victor takes care of our wounds. James has it worse than me with his wooden leg. "

Smee paused and looked over her shoulder. His eyes flying from her to the door, his jaw clenched as he bent over to gather the bowl. 

"I'm sorry missy, I need to give the Captain his water. He may be fair, but I don't want to bite the hand that feeds me."

"Right. I wouldn't want you to get into trouble because of me; you should go. Thank you, Smee."

"Goodnight missy."

Emma snorted slightly and nodded, holding the log to her chest, walking to her cabins. 

She quickly made the distance from one cabin to the other, not really comfortable under the gazes of the crew. It was very unlikely that any one of them would dare to make a move on her, yet, Emma would not risk herself. Hook might have - probably had given orders, but she would not risk her safety near drunk sailors.

Her breath of air escaped her with great relief when she finally closed the door of her cabins. Emma hurried to detach her cloak from her shoulders and the heavy cloth barely made it to the small desk with her gloves, before she sat on the bed, her hands holding the log. 

She was still under shock from Smee's story and his hands. The pain she had seen in the sailor’s eyes could not be mistaken. The different kingdoms had given up most of their power over the seas, renouncing to legislate those oceans for they had too much to do with the lands already. It had of course, left a free place to every pirate captain who wanted to impose their law upon the sea.

She did not know where Hook stood in that hierarchy but Blackbeard perpetuated horrifying crimes to spread the word around the world that he was the King. Hook would therefore be the only rival known who could claim the title of King of the Sea. Or whatever name it was given.

But Hook or Blackbeard, no matter whom it was, Emma did not think either could ever do any good to their world, even if Hook was by far less cruel than Blackbeard was. Blackbeard had mutilated Smee for the sake of it, for a perverse need for hurting others, and killed that boy Hook had known a long time ago, not to mention the fact that he commended Emma’s murder.

At least, on the Jolly Roger, Emma was safer than she was on land. 

Her fingers brushed over the leather that covered the log, the material soft and warm. Over time, the leather was faded by the hands it had been passed into; Hook held this object dearly, and it was probably one of his most precious possessions, Emma realized. 

She opened it and started scanning the pages; not only it contained the diary of a man who had spent his life on the sea but it contained a lot of maps, charts and other drawings representing monsters. The more pages she turned the more Emma realized that the book was not so much a diary, for it had really little text compared to the amount of lands reproduced on paper.

It was the work of an artist, beautiful lines and curls, traced with a thin pen, painted lines accompanied by arabesques, maps spread on two pages, even four if needed of places Emma had never heard of.

The more she read the bigger her curiosity was, for she was fascinated by the details of a man's life, the accounts of a journey from one land to another. 

Something stood out in the middle of this treasure; no mention was made of Killian Jones, making Emma arch a brow. Wasn't Liam Jones supposed to be his brother? Wouldn't it be logical for him to talk about his brother? Especially if they had shared adventures together? 

Her reading fastened as she now sought mentions of the soon to be pirate in every page; a misplaced curiosity to find out more about the man he used to be through the prism of his brother.

She was not sure of what she was looking for, feeling like she was running after a ghost, trying to connect the dots and explain a connection.

Not even halfway through it a tingling sensation started growing from the center of the pages to the tips of her fingers, like a slow fire burning up. It was just like that time when she had taken a bath, the same sensation starting as a warm feeling-

"What the hell?"

Now her palms were burning, forcing her to drop the book, and it fell poorly at her feet, just a regular log, not a dangerous item. She looked at her palms with horror and there were the same burns as before, only this time deeper, a quivering cry escaping her lips as she tried to open and close her fists. 

The log had definitely burned her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay, between my laptop dying on me and a hard time to pull this chapter together, here it is, finally! We are finally getting into the interesting stuff. I hope you enjoyed it and you enjoyed CS scene which is by far my favorite scene in this fic though juicy ones are coming.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and support. It's highly appreciated!
> 
> And I don't know about you but the last episode of OUAT killed me, this declaration, this scene, oh my God. We all died.
> 
> Anyway, see you in a few my darlings,
> 
> lots of love,
> 
> Adri


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